


Raising a Maelstrom

by forever_kouhai



Category: Naruto
Genre: Body Switch?, Bodyswap, Civilian OC, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Kushina isn't here to beat Konoha's collective ass so I have to do it for her, Mystery, Naruto Having A Loving Family, OC is a mama bear to everyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn, Ratings may change, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life, Suicide, bc Aika isn't a ninja and she can't do it for real, briefly, but also EVERYONE, but like with words, but you'll actually have to read to figure out what, i'll try and avoid angst but honestly....., it's really not what you think, mostly Naruto, sorta - Freeform, tbh there's a lot of shit going on in the background, that tag looks super out of place, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_kouhai/pseuds/forever_kouhai
Summary: I woke up in the world of a TV show from my childhood. Which would be cool if I also didn't wake up in the body of a fully grown woman, instead of a baby. All those fics lied to me. I guess I should make the most of it, since I'm stuck here now. I mean really, what's the worst that could happen? I'm sure whatever this life throws at me, it can't be too hard, right?....Right?akaphysically strangling Sarutobi Hiruzen with my bare hands is impossible, but I'm gonna do it by winning Naruto's complete love away from him and also by making Icha Icha go out of circulation so cHECK AND MATE MOTHERFUCKER





	1. In Which Transmigration Fucks Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Yeah, Kunai are cool but have you had dessert?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704930) by [Authorship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorship/pseuds/Authorship). 



> Because I've been so inspired by the lovely Authorship's "Yeah, Kunai are cool but have you had dessert?" I decided to post my own hella indulgent SI/OC fic. I don't think I can really explain exactly HOW indulgent this is. I mean, you'll get it the more you read. But oh my god, none of you are prepared. So buckle up buttercups, we aboutta get shit DONE.

 

For me personally, my death was actually relatively peaceful.

Terror-inducing, of course, because who expects a heart attack when they’re barely in their thirties? I should have known better honestly, considering that my entire family line had issues with heart disease and heart failure and so on and so forth. But really, who expects to die so young? Not me certainly.

The other thing I didn't expect?

Waking up in someone else's body.

 

Yeah, it's only going to get weirder from there.

* * *

 

 

There was a quiet acknowledgement of death in me, a sweet sigh of relief in my head that wasn’t from me. The bloody cuts over my wrists were still bleeding sluggishly when I pried my heavy eyelids open.

“Oh fuck,” I blurt, though it comes out more like a gargle of syllables. My arms are nearly entirely numb, and the only reason I’m not dead (again) is because of the tub I’m half draped over that’s cut the blood flow to my arms. My head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, but I know vaguely what to do. I cast a glance around the bathroom, taking stock of the room. It’s small and plain, vaguely Japanese style and lacking a toilet. There’s really only a bathtub here, and - ah, there, a towel. I take in a breath to brace myself before lifting my arms by bits. I feel woozy as the blood begins to rush down my arms again, but I manage an awkward stagger-crawl-lunge towards the towel through sheer willpower. My fingers are trembling so hard that fine motor function is impossible, but I don’t need a lot of that to tangle my hands into the towel enough to press against the wounds enough to stop the blood.

Okay, now what? Bandages, yeah, something like that. I make it upright, through some sort of divine miracle, staggering my way out the bathroom and stubbornly forcing back the wave of black that threatens to overtake my vision. The wall is basically the only thing supporting me as I make my way into the living room. My footsteps on the floor sound oddly hollow, telling me that I’m in an apartment. The floors are wood, I think deliriously, how much does this apartment cost for it to have wood floors?

Oh god, everything’s so blurry. How many liters of blood have I lost? One, maybe two, on account of how hard it is to think.

My visions begins to grey out, black spots dancing across my eyes and I have enough time to think “shit” before I slip to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

 

I wake up in the hospital.

For a brief second, I almost think I didn’t die before an aggrieved huff to my left draws my attention. The woman sitting in the hospital chair by my bedside is almost unfairly beautiful. Her hair is black like midnight, with subtle waves in it that would make any hairstylist turn green with envy. Her face is beautiful enough to make an angel weep, even if her eyes are a vaguely terrifying blood red. She’s also glaring daggers at me.

“Kurenai,” I croak out, and blink, startled, at the name that automatically popped up.

“Aika,” she returns, voice flat. She holds the stern mien for another moment before her red eyes fill with tears and she sags forward, all the fight gone out of her.

I’m not Aika, I want to say, but the words get caught in my throat, the inherent wrongness of the statement preventing me from speaking. Kurenai’s voice breaks me from thinking on that longer.

“You scared me,” she whispers, “If I didn’t want to surprise you with a visit, you would have-”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because it just seems like something I should say.

“You can talk to me,” she says, gripping my hand almost too tightly. “If not me, then talk to someone at least Aika.”

There's nothing for me to say to that. Awkwardly, I try to smile at her - to reassure this not-stranger that I'm fine, even if I'm not - but if anything my lack of words just make her expression tighten further. She opens her mouth to speak before being interrupted by a knock on the door. A nurse - maybe? She’s not dressed in scrubs, so it’s hard to tell - pokes her head in.

“Visiting hours are over, shinobi-san,” she says and leaves it at that. There’s a long gap of silence as Kurenai looks for something in my face. After a moment, she nods, letting go of my hand and standing.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I raise my eyebrows at the way the words are bitten out, like they’re a threat and not a promise. Kurenai huffs at me again before leaning over and kissing me on the forehead.

“As your best friend, I’m going to demand you get some sleep Aika.”

Another stern look, to which I give my best cryptic smile.

Another huff!

I’m beginning to see a pattern here.

Still, she leaves with a faint wave and I give it five minutes before grabbing my pillow and screaming into it.

Kurenai?

KURENAI?

KURENAI FUCKING YUUHI?

From the fucking Naruto series? Leader of team 8? Jounin sensei to Hinata and Kiba and Shino? Minor character who was unfortunately relegated to motherhood due to Kishimoto not knowing how to write 3 dimensional female characters?

Oh god what is this?

What’s going on?

Why am I here?

And what did she mean by best friend?

I scream again into my pillow, long and frustrated.

Weren’t people who ended up in the Naruto universe always reborn into it? Why did I come through into an adult’s body? Oh fuck, I’m a literal body snatcher, how is this my life?

Or, I guess, it’s not really mine.

Well, it is.

I mean, it wasn’t before, but whoever the real Aika was, she’s gone now, letting me operate her meat suit as my own.

That’s-

Weirdly gross to think about.

I scream again into the pillow before abruptly slamming it down onto the bed, throwing my head down on it as if I was headbutting it. I’m not gonna think about this, I tell myself determinedly. I’m going the fuck to sleep and will deal with this tomorrow morning, preferably after coffee.

Oh shit, I think, with mounting horror, do they even have coffee here?

* * *

 

True to her promise, Kurenai comes back the next morning.

She actually walks in while one of the nurses is changing my bandages. I wondered why she didn’t just heal me with that medical jutsu stuff I knew existed, before the thought was followed up with the sure knowledge that medical ninjutsu didn’t work on people without developed chakra systems.

Obviously.

There’s silence - surprisingly not awkward - as the nurse works and Kurenai looms and I ponder about neuroscience and how much Aika’s already connected neurons have likely affected my current personality already simply by me existing in her headspace and also how the transfer of souls would affect brain composition and lordly did I wish for Orochimaru right then and there. He was fucking crazy, and would be more likely to cut me open then answer my questions, but I was so painfully curious about what exactly happened to me, I almost saw it as worth the risk.

“Ready to go?” Kurenai asked, the moment the nurse left. I nodded, still thinking about the hippocampus and its role in long term memory storage and what it meant that I could only barely recall flashes of my own past life and get only vague impressions of Aika’s. Kurenai gives me a change of clothes, a long sleeved shirt and a skirt I vaguely recognize as my own, as well as normal leather sandals.

None of that ugly, cobalt blue, ninja bullshit.

We walked down to the front desk, where I signed myself out and tried not to freak out about the fact I could understand the Japanese characters with ease, which was followed me trying not to think about the fact I had been speaking Japanese without realizing it.

Somehow, Kurenai and I ended up at a cafe. It was compulsion to order a water and taiyaki.

Kurenai tsked at me. “Sweets so soon out of the hospital?” she teases, grinning at me.

“I deserve sweets,” I tell her, feeling oddly defensive, “Would you deny me, a poor hospitalized woman, her indulgences?” I only had half a moment to think about who Aika was, if she would normally joke like this, be teasing and sarcastic instead of literally anything else, before Kurenai laughed.

“How long are you going to use that excuse now?” she asks.

“As long as I possibly can,” I say, perking up eagerly as the scent of something sweet approaches our table. I’m practically salivating when the waiter sets down cute fish-shaped pastries and I bite into it before waiting for it to cool. Kurenai laughs at my suffering as I whine, stubbornly chewing even as the bean paste filled sweet burns my mouth.

We eat and chat and words flow from my mouth like water, with barely any though put behind them. It’s instinct to fall into a girly chat with Kurenai, every name she drops getting a reaction from both real Aika and me. She updates me about Gai and Kakashi’s new competition (who can eat the most oranges in one sitting) to Hayate and Yugao’s relationship. I ask her about Asuma and she blushes furiously, whacking my arm hard enough to bruise. I laugh at her.

It's...good.

It's relaxing.

It's nice.

It makes me wonder what about this warm life that had driven the real Aika to suicide.

* * *

 

About an hour into our gossiping session, a genin runner appears at our table and tells Kurenai that her presence is requested by the Hokage. She looks mournful at having to leave me, but orders are orders. I wave her off, take the money she left and feel a sort of familiar surge of affection and irritation when the amount is enough to cover my meal as well. That done, I begin to wander my way back to the apartment.

That’s when I smell it.

Savoury and salty and warm and I couldn’t stop the saliva from flooding my mouth. I know what it is practically before I turn around.

Ramen Ichiraku’s.

Oh god.

My stomach -- insatiable, apparently, despite the fact I just ate -- growls loudly and I’m making my way over to the stand automatically.

How could I not? It was Ichiraku’s.

“Welcome!” Teuchi and Ayame call in sync. I nod and then sit down at the bar, slightly bewildered, as Ayame bustles over.

“What’ll it be today?” she asks, sunny bright smile on her face.

“Uh, shoyu,” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “And a water.”

“Shoyu ramen coming right up!” Teuchi yells and they move like a well oiled machine. Ayame gets me the water, then preps a bowl as Teuchi grabs a handful of noodles and places them in a cylindrical shaped strainer and hooking it into a pot of boiling water. Ayame grabs the toppings, placing them in designated dishes as Teuchi pours out the broth into the bowl. In what feels like mere seconds, he’s adding the noodles, then the toppings, and then Ayame is setting down a bowl of the most beautiful food in the entire world in front of me.

My stomach lets out another monstrous cry and Ayame is polite enough to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Thanks for the food,” I mumble, embarrassed, breaking chopsticks and picking up a hunk of noodles and some toppings and shoving it into my mouth.

Oh.

My.

God.

The urge to burst into tears on how good this dish tastes is almost overwhelming. As it is, I only tear up a little bit before shoving another bite in. My already burned mouth aches, but it can settle down and deal. Before I know it, I’m knocking back the last of the broth.

“Wow,” comes a quiet voice to my right and I jerk in surprise, choking on the broth and coughing roughly as it goes down the wrong pipe. “Shoot! Are you okay lady?”

There’s the sound of cloth sliding and quick footsteps and a brief pause but soon little hands are patting me on the back in that bruising way all kids have. Ayame appears in my watery line of vision, handing me a glass of water that I take gratefully, sipping it as quickly as I could without choking again.

“Thanks,” I rasp out, nodding to Ayame, before turning to my right, wondering if-

And yup.

Hunch confirmed.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, whiskered cheeks.

That’s the bona fide Uzumaki Naruto that just watched me choke on ramen broth.

Fantastic.


	2. In Which I Fuck Up the Timeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto is sooooo cute! I think I might keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so "yeah, kunai are cool" hasn't updated, but I am anyways and why is that? Two reasons. One, because Authorship said I should. Two, I got offered a scholarship today!!! Offered!!!!   
> So this update is to celebrate bc I'm happy and I hope this chapter makes you guys happy too!

I stare at Naruto.

Naruto stares at me.

I’m so entranced by the sight of one of my favorite childhood protagonists in the flesh (albeit only looking about seven years old) that I nearly miss the way his body starts to hunch in on itself, shoulders curling in as if bracing for a blow. That in turn almost makes me recoil.

I had nearly forgotten that Naruto’s childhood was far from the best -- he was verbally abused by nearly everyone in the village, and physically abused too when people thought they could get away with it. The only people who were ever nice to him were the Hokage and Teuchi, and later on Iruka and then everyone else.

That’s so . . . sad.

Just looking at this boy in front of me makes me sad.

His blue eyes are shaded dark with disappointment at my silence-

Oh.

Right.

I glance at Teuchi and Ayame, who are looking just as tense at my lack of reaction.

“Thanks for the assist, little man,” I rasp out and I hear the sigh of relief Ayame makes. That along with Naruto’s brightening expression makes my lips curve into a smile. “I guess I was too eager to finish off my ramen.”

Naruto’s full on grinning by now, peering up at me from where he’s standing on the ground. 

“Yeah! Ichiraku’s ramen is the BEST!”

There’s a bowl further down the table, telling me that he had settled down to eat his own before startling me. Impulse makes me pat the seat next to me, an unmistakable gesture that makes Naruto freeze, then look up at me in cautious hope.

“I don’t know much about ramen,” I say, “Why don’t you tell me what I should order for my next bowl?”

Naruto fetches his bowl and set it in front of the seat next to mine. He keeps shooting me cautious glances, as if afraid I was going to rescind my kindness at any moment. It kinda pisses me off, that a kid has had this happen to him enough that it’s an expected reaction. Still, I keep the gentle smile on my face, careful not to let my irritation at the world at large slip through.

“So, what should I have next, sweetheart?”

The endearment slips out before I can stop it and Naruto fumbles when getting up on the chair, making me lunge to try and catch him. By some miracle, I manage to get a grip on his shirt and I haul him up and plop him on the set with entirely too much ease. I can’t help the small frown that slips out at that. Are kids supposed to be that light? I don’t think they should.

“You okay there?” I ask, and he nods, eyes bright with tears. “Oh dear,” I say, and pull a handkerchief out of my pocket to dab at his eyes. Wow, old-Aika carries a handkerchief. She was a Legit Adult then. “You probably hit something, if you’re tearing up like that.”

“I’m fine!” Naruto says, voice sort of wet sounding, but mostly happy.

“If you say so, sweetheart,” I say, mostly dubious, and on impulse, stuff my handkerchief into his hands. “Take that in case you need it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

Naruto delicately folds the handkerchief and puts it into his pocket, before turning to his ramen.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having, T- er, chef-san.” I say, stumbling over whether or not to call his name.

“I’m Teuchi, and this is my daughter Ayame,” Teuchi-san says, smiling proudly. “And that’s one pork ramen, coming right up!”

“I’m Sakamoto Aika,” I offer in return, “And thanks Teuchi-san!”

I quickly check my purse, and heave a sigh of relief at the amount in there. I was carrying more than enough to be able to pay for two bowls of ramen, thanks to Kurenai’s change and my own money. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mad I was using it to buy salty food.

Well, whatever, it’ll be too late by then anyways.

“So, sweetheart,” I start, turning back to the table as Teuchi hands us both another bowl of ramen. I raise my eyebrows at Naruto’s already eaten bowl, but don’t comment. “Are you in school?”

Naruto grins again at me and starts talking.

 

“...and Sasuke-teme is already top of the class, but he’s not gonna be there for long! I’m gonna beat him soon, dattebayo!” Naruto declares, slurping up the rest of his noodles. I had tapped out after two bowls, but this kid was six bowls in and still going strong. I can feel my wallet weeping at the thought of paying for that, but it’s not like he has enough and he didn’t even seem to notice when I kept waving for more. Teuchi was more than happy to provide anyways.

“You’ll get there, sweetheart, I believe in you,” I say, and Naruto preens, flushed with food and happiness and something in me is content at that. That’s how he should be, my heart insists, happy and satisfied and relaxed. Ayame edges closer and I wave her off, nodding at the silent question in her face. Yeah, show me the check from hell.

She brings it over soon and I blink at the price. I count it out and see at least three bowls had been marked down as free and I look up and smile at Teuchi. He gives me a nod in return. I count out the money and hand it to Ayame with another smile, only then noticing Naruto had gone silent.

He looks sad, a little confused, with something like desperation mounting in his eyes.

I resist the urge to clutch at my heart dramatically, because oh god this boy is just too cute to bear. It doesn’t take a genius to see how attached he’s gotten to me in the past couple of hours, to someone kind to him, willing to listen, and encouraging him basically non stop. 

But still, it’s been two hours

I’m not the best adult ever, especially when it comes to bed times, but kids need their sleep and it’s edging closer to evening.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I say, standing and stretching, “It’s time to go home.”

“Whaaaat? Whyyyy?” Naruto whines, “I haven’t even talked about-”

“You can tell me on the way there,” I interrupt, grabbing him by the hand and bowing on my way out to Teuchi and Ayame. “Now, where to?”

“Uh,” Naruto says, staring at our hands in shock.

“You didn’t think I’d let you walk home alone in the dark, did you?” I ask, making my voice light. Honestly, I probably should go home. The faint twinge of pain in my wrists reminds me that I had instructions to change my bandages once every two hours. But who could say no to Naruto’s sad face? I had a heart, so I absolutely couldn’t.

“So, sweetheart?” I ask, and that seems to jolt him out of his daze.

“This way, Aika-san,” he mumbles, and begins to walk.

“Just Aika is fine, sweetheart,” I tell him, and carefully don’t mention the way he blushes with happiness at the offer. I’m not an idiot after all. I know what it means to offer your first name to someone in Japanese culture. It means you’re close, as close as family, but any sort of cultural faux pas I could commit here and now take a backseat to seeing Naruto’s smile.

“My name’s Uzumaki Naruto,” he offers, and his grip sort of loosens, as if giving the opportunity to leave, once I’ve learned his name, learned I was cavorting about with a demon child.

Instead, I tighten my grip, smiling down at the way he glances up at me.

“Would you like me to call you by your name, or keep with sweetheart?”

“Either’s fine,” Naruto says. There’s a long pause, as we walk through Konoha under the moon and the newly-blooming cherry blossoms. It’s interesting, though, walking with Naruto. He avoids the main streets, taking back alleys though it will take longer with all the looping we have to do. The people we can’t avoid smile at me, then freeze at the sight of Naruto. Some look scared, others angry, others like a constipated combination between the two. One man even took a step forward, mouth opening as if to berate one of us. I glared, reaching up towards my side as if going for a weapon, and he quickly backed off. Dumbass.

That little trick wouldn’t have fooled a ninja, but it did a civilian. 

I may have loathed my acting classes with all my heart, but in conjunction to some psychology and sociology classes, they came in handy when dealing with people, I do admit.

 

* * *

 

In other news, Naruto’s apartment was a fucking dump.

Mildew on the walls, cracks in the concrete, weeds instead of a front garden. It looked basically abandoned and I half expected for people to be shooting up in the back of it. All in all, absolutely NOT where a child should be living. Alone. At the age of seven. 

Every instinct in me roared to scoop this kid up and bring him back to my home, but I doubted that would fly.

Well, for now.

I’ll give it a month and then try.

Thus decided, I ushered Naruto upstairs and forced him into the bath. Then I got to work cleaning his apartment. He had trash bags, thank god, and I threw away basically everything that smelled slightly gross. I’d replace it later. I mean, if I could afford that pretentious apartment of mine, I could chip in for any new things Naruto could need. Setting the grand total of three full trash bags outside, I couldn’t help but notice that he had absolutely no neighbors.

I pushed down the getting-to-be-familiar anger at Naruto’s situation just in time for the boy himself to exit the bathroom. He was in pajamas and a sleep cap, and I very nearly squealed at the sight. Good lord had I mentioned how cute baby Naruto was? It was just unfair. Poor Kushina and Minato never got to see this. I needed to buy a camera to capture this adorableness. Wait, could civilians even get cameras? Something to investigate.

“Bedtime, sweetheart!” I called cheerfully, heading over to his small bed and folding back the freshly-changed sheets, patting it encouragingly when he failed to move. He crept over to me slowly, still unsure even when I smiled as gently as I could manage. “Do you want a story or a lullaby?”

He looked at me for a long moment before bursting out into tears. I yelped in shock as he tackled me, nuzzling his face into my shoulder and getting snot and other liquids all over my shirt. I shushed him, rubbing at his back and wondering what the hell had happened. I was nice, wasn’t I? Completely normal, if a bit too affectionate. I didn’t say anything mean, or rude, I was the exact fucking image of a loving mother or something along those lines.

“Shh, Naruto, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, come on, honey, tell Aika-nee what’s wrong.” 

At that he almost seems to sob harder, his fists wrapping tight in my shirt, refusing to let go-

Ah.

Right.

I’m a dumbass.

He was scared and overwhelmed. He had no insurance that I -- one of the only people to show him open affection -- was going to come back. The fact that I’ve only spent about two hours with him was negligible in the face of the fact I was kind to him. I rolled my eyes. The Third Hokage was a freaking moron for not seeing such an exploitable avenue for anyone who wanted the nine tails jinchuuriki under their control. Sloppy, in my opinion.

Actually, now that I think about it, all those fics I’ve ever read said that Naruto had an ANBU bodyguard. Where were those motherfuckers when this boy started crying, huh? Ugh, I was getting pissed just thinking about it. Back to the present.

I cradled Naruto more comfortably in my arms, continuing to stroke his back as he continued to cry his little heart out. Eventually (and it took a while), he settled down and drifted off in an exhausted sleep.

I carefully detangled myself from him, moving to the bathroom to locate precisely one ratty washcloth, which I soaked and then returned to the Naruto to wipe his face while he was sleeping. Folding it to a clean side, I tried my best to mop up the mess that he made of my shirt and shoulder.

That done, I located a piece of paper and jotted down a note:

 

_ Hey sweetheart,  _

_ I hope you slept well.  I had to return to my place to bathe and stuff, but I’ll be at Ichiraku’s for dinner tomorrow. Meet you there! _

_ Your brand new Aika-nee _

_ P.S. Make sure you eat a healthy breakfast today! _

 

Nodding in satisfaction, I left the note on the front door where he would see it, and left as quietly as I could. The lock I twisted before closing, so it was locked at least. Then I began to head home-

Ah, right, the trashbags.

After I threw those away in the absolutely horrendous smelling dumpster, I began heading home. I’m entirely certain that if I tried to think about making my way back, I would have gotten hopelessly lost. As it is, I’m half floating with exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed. Do I even have a bed? There’s a vague memory of a cushiony bed. Fuck yeah.

I enter the apartment lobby and the old woman at the front gasps in surprise.

“Oh, Sakamoto-san!” she says, rushing around the counter. “I heard you went to the hospital! What happened? Are you okay?”

Cue fake smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little accident with a kitchen knife. Kurenai freaked out a little bit, but I’m okay now.”

Liiiiieeesssssss, but as if I was going to tell this kind old lady that the Aika she knew committed suicide. 

“Oh, poor dear,” the lady tuts - Morishita, my new brain helpfully provides - and she toddles back over the desk, grabbing a key from it. “Your door was ruined when your shinobi friend knocked it down, so we got is fixed up. Here’s your new key.”

I thank her, take my key, and book it. I groan at the sight of stairs but gamely make my way up to apartment 3A. 

A quick walk around the place tells me it’s been cleaned up from blood as well and lets me become more familiar with the layout. From the fuzzy memories I have before, it had a front room and an open kitchen. The front room is pretty plain: a simple brown couch against one wall, with a coffee table in front of it. There’s an overflowing bookshelf against the other, and a desk piled with papers tucked into the corner. There’s no TV or radio or any sort of entertainment system. There’s a door to the left of me which I know from experience is the place with the bathtub, and another door which reveals the sink and toilet, blocked off by a low wall upon which several knick knacks are arranged. The far door in front of me opens up to a bedroom, though the term is generously used since the huge bed barely fits and the closet is nearly blocked off.

For some reason, that makes me laugh.

Old Aika obviously had her priorities completely straight because this fluffy monstrosity looks amazing. I flop onto it and promise myself I’ll get up in just a minute…….


	3. In Which I Lose My Heart (As If You Didn't See That Coming)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snooping into old-Aika's life. Also, Naruto's mine now, I said so, no takesies backsies

7 am.

Fuck me.

I slapped the alarm clock on the bedside table, muting the shriek of the damned machine.

With a yawn, I stumbled into the bathroom to pee when-

I caught sight of Aika.

Or, me, I guess.

She was . . . a forgettable kind of pretty, really.

A strong selfie game could take her up to a 9, but natural she’d clock in at 6 and a half, and I may be slightly biased on that count.

Brown hair that seemed to be Konoha standard, if half a shade lighter. Bangs swept to the side, two strands doing that weird sideburn Anime Thing where they’re not short enough to be bangs, but not long enough to clump with the rest of the hair. The rest of it falls pin straight down to her shoulder blades; not too thick, not too thin. Heavy, but not really. For someone who’s used to short bobs, it’s kind of trippy to think about too long, honestly.

Face is balanced overall, if a bit pale, but with no distinctive markings. Nose slightly smaller, lips on the thinner side, even teeth . . . Nothing to complain about really.

Her eyes, on the other hand, are fucking purple.

Not a bioluminescent violet, or a Hyuuga lavender, but a darker, more subtle plum. Of all the obnoxious Mary Sue traits to get stuck with, I suppose purple eyes aren’t too bad. Still weird, don’t get me wrong, because I know pigment doesn’t work that way, but fine overall.

Final judgement?

Not worth a double take, but decent enough. Definitely a step above what I looked like before, that’s for sure.

Pulling a face at my (new) reflection, I used the bathroom and tried really, really hard not to think about the fact I was peeing with someone else’s body.

Nope.

Nope, just thought of it.

Super weird.

It was super fucking weird.

Bladder emptied, I shuffled to the kitchen, filling a kettle for tea, before the coffee addict in me reared its head and screamed out for coffee. A quick search left me laying dramatically despondent on the ground when there was not a single speck of coffee to be found. I debated the merits of whether or not it was worth crying over before abruptly realizing I had to shower, since I didn’t bathe last night.

Kettle abandoned, I undressed and entered the bathing room. I was briefly distracted by unwrapping the bandages over my wrists. The scars were red and a bit irritated, but there were no stitches, only butterfly bandages, and they looked mostly healed. Huh, weird. I could have sworn Aika had made deeper cuts . . .

Ah, well, they looked fine to shower with so it didn’t really matter. If they’d started bleeding, I’d get them wrapped asap, but they seemed fine so whatever.

I spent a brief moment desperately missing Western style showers, since I had to sit on a stool to use the Japanese style ones, but by casting my thoughts back to last night, I was able to use muscle memory to my advantage and fiddle with the controls with ease.

So.

I had obviously fucked up my first contact with Naruto.

Were I thinking logically, I should have been completely aware of the fact he was basically a social pariah in this village. Reasonably, I should have avoided him.

But I’m not a heartless person.

Last night, I saw a sad kid, a kid who needed a friend, who needed a bit of kindness in his life and I provided that. And god, wasn’t it just sad how quickly he latched onto that? Willing to let a completely stranger into his home just to keep a hold of that? How starved of affection was that kid, to warrant that kind of reaction in a paranoid-as-fuck ninja village?

I felt a brief surge of panic at the thought of the Hokage getting wind of that, of thinking me a risk and simply killing me so that Naruto remained isolated and dependant only on him for close affection. I quickly threw that thought to the side though. Aika’s body (reasonably proportioned, definite pear shape) lacked any sort of muscle that I presume would be needed to be a ninja, so I could reasonably deduce she was a civilian. Now, while that would make it easier for the Hokage could bippity-boppity-boo me into the sweet embrace of death, some part of me doubted he would. Maybe killing civilians willy-nilly is bad PR? Sounds like it would be.

So, for now I would assume I was safe, but probably now monitored. That sounds like something a military state would do to anyone who got too close to their human weapon. That was…...well, not fine, but it’s not like I could DO anything about it, except stop talking to Naruto and that was not going to happen.

That kid was attached, I was attached, and they would have to pry him out of my cold, dead hands.

Again, a really real possibility, but honestly, me? Afraid of death? HAH.

It’s proved not to be so bad so far.

Still, dying was really far down the list of things I don’t want to do in this life, so I’ll just try my best to avoid it.

I finished up in the shower, pinning the now incredibly heavy mass of hair up into a bun because fuck waiting for it to dry.

I went back into my room to dress and . . . paused.

Did I have anything to do today?

Closing my eyes to see if my spidey senses were tingling (or, you know, leftover Aika instincts) it came back as a grand and resounding ‘no’. I almost wanted to laugh.

Pretty and rich enough that she didn’t need to work?

Seriously, what reason did this girl have to attempt suicide?

Ah, now there was a question that had to be addressed sometime soon, but damn if I wasn’t gonna ignore the hell out of it right this very second.

I dug through my new closet and found piles and piles of yukata and kimono before finally finding a tank top and pair of booty shorts to wear around the house, since I certainly wasn’t planning on leaving.

Now . . . to find out who Sakamoto Aika really was.

By snooping through her old/my new stuff.

 

* * *

  


Two hours later, I was able to deduce that Aika was kind of too perfect to believe.

First of all, she kept a fucking journal of all things, like a fucking prep. Like, good lord, the first entry dates back to when she was nine! It was undeniably helpful, but I almost couldn’t believe that kind of dedication to maintaining a journal from when she was nine all the way up to her current age of twenty two.

When I had a journal when I was a kid, I set the pages on fire one by one, so this is a pretty remarkable turn of events.

She was born a year before the Second Shinobi War. Her parents owned a paper and brush store. When she was five, her parents put her in the Academy in hopes of her showing potential to be a ninja. That was where she and Kurenai met and became friends. Skip over all this other bullshit about schoolyard drama. . . boring boring boring!

Ah, here we are, she was pulled from the Academy at age 7 when her father died suddenly and her mother needed help managing the store. It burns to read about mentions of the regular customers - of Kushina-san and Minato-san, identified by name in Aika’s notebooks.

I lean back, closing my eyes and wondering what would have happened, had I been reborn in Aika’s baby body. Would I have been able to change more, if I had more time? Would I have insisted on become a ninja? Could I have saved Obito from his fate? Kushina and Minato’s from theirs? I would never know.

At age 9, when Kurenai becomes a genin and Aika stays the same, the Third Shinobi War starts. I want to scream at the next lines:

 

_Kushina-san looked really ragged today and she bought a whole lot of brushes. When I asked why, she said it was because she was told by the Hokage to make a lot of exploding tags. I remembered learning about those in the Academy and it sounded hard to make, so I asked her if it was. She smiled really evilly and told me she’d show me. Then she told me to leave my Fridays free and then left. I think she’s going to teach me?_

 

The next Friday entry:

 

_Kushina-san showed up at my house and taught me about seals. There was a lot to learn. I can’t write a lot right now - I have to go practice._

 

I threw the journal across the room at that and let out a gargled scream before I could stop myself.

This bitch!

Literally learned sealing from Uzumaki Kushina herself!

I couldn’t believe this.

Abruptly standing from the couch, I paced along the room, oddly frustrated. It’s such a waste that old-Aika didn’t take advantage of that! That she was so passive in her entire life, didn’t take advantage of her enviable position given to her by birth, and it was such a fucking waste.

My head hurt.

My heart hurt.

What a waste.

I eyed the journal I was reading - number 5 out of a impossible 18 - and forced myself to pick it up again.

 

* * *

  


When I reach over to turn on the light - eyes still glued to the page where she cried over the thoughts of Kushina being dead - I abruptly freeze, gaze dashing to the clock.

Oh fuck.

It’s nearly seven.

_Naruto!_

I scramble over the coffee table, banging my shins on the edge of it, and rush into my room. I slip out of my lounge clothes and throw on a random skirt (seriously, where are these girl’s pants? I couldn’t live with only skirts) and thin, long sleeved shirt. The same sandals as yesterday and I grab my purse and shove my key and money into it before basically dashing out of the apartment.

I’m sweating by the time I make it to Ichiraku’s - at 7:25, according to the clock on the stall’s wall - and see Naruto staring down at his ramen with something like despondency.

“Sorry for being late sweetheart!” I say as I duck under the hangings, “I got caught up in reading- oof!”

I bend over the force of Naruto slamming into my gut, his little arms wrapping like a vice around my hips. Gently, I wrap my arms around his head and shoulders, returning the embrace.

“Are you angry at me, sweetheart?” I can’t help but ask.

He shakes his head into my stomach and says something into the material of my shirt.

“Come again?” I ask, chuckling.

Naruto pulls away and looks up at me, “It’s okay, Aika-nee. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Oh sweet lord save me from teary, baby blue eyes.

I am slain.

“I’ll never break a promise to you, Naruto,” I tell him, too honest and too deep. Not that I was trying to hide it, but the raw affection in my voice is absolutely unmistakable. My arms tighten around him for a brief moment, a sudden but not unexpected surge of protectiveness welling up in me.

I always did get attached too quickly for my own good.

“So, sweetheart, what flavor should I have today, hmm?”

 

* * *

 

It’s about half an hour after we start eating, with Naruto on his fifth bowl and I on my first, when someone else ducks under the hangings. I ignore them, because Naruto is gesturing wildly as he describes the blast radius of his next prank (“With pink glitter, Aika-nee! Lots and lots of it, dattebayo!”) and his eyes are sparkling bright with excitement.

Then I hear the typical ‘tsk’ sound of disgust and I look up to see the truly forgettable face of some random civilian. He’s looking at Naruto like the boy is dog shit on his shoes. He’s looking at me in the same way, but tempered with a small amount of pity.

His mouth opens and I put my hands over Naruto’s ears before a single word spills out of his mouth.

“Turn around, and leave.”

It’s a demand dealt in it’s flattest form.

The tone learned by any woman when a man’s hand wanders too far, when a joke hits a little too close to home. It’s the kind of tone I’m achingly familiar with, one I’ve completely mastered. It offers no chance of argument, no weakness in the demand for him to attack, and I level him with a look of ice-cold disregard, as if he were nothing but dust underneath my feet. His jaw snaps shut, even as his face contorts with indignation, and his head rears back, in the same too-recognizable way of a man about to spit on the ground. I narrow my eyes.

“Now.” I snap.

He takes a sharp breath in and then sweeps out.

“Demon lover,” he calls over his shoulder, as if it’s an insult.

I roll my eyes, before smiling reassuringly at the tense looking Teuchi and Ayame. Both of whom, I’m amused to see, are carrying a kitchen utensil as if it were a bludgeoning weapon. Naruto is looking up at me with shock and confusion and painfully delicate awe in his face and I smile at him, moving my hands to ruffle his hair aggressively.

“Sorry about that sweetheart,” I tell him, “but that man was gonna say a bad word, and little kids shouldn’t hear bad words.”

“I’m not little!” Naruto complains, trying to comb out his hair as I return to my meal. “Besides, I know bad words already! Like, shi-”

“NOPE!” I say loudly over him, “No cursing! No bad words!”

Naruto grins, “And I know dam-”

“NOPE!”

“And fuc-”

I slap my hand over his mouth before he completes that word, giving him a stern glare.

“None of that mister, not as long as I’m paying for the food here,” a pause, and then, “and I’ll be doing that for a long time, so best forget those dirty words now.”

God I was such a hypocrite.

But seriously, Naruto is not allowed to use bad words. It just feels so . . . wrong. He’s too pure for such vulgar language. That was for when you become an adult and I highly doubted I was ever going to see him as anything other than the precious baby he is now.

“Okay, Aika-nee!”

 

* * *

 

It feels like only a few seconds later that I’m walking him home again, and I’m in the middle of trying to explain to him why birds can fly when we reach his door. As with last night, I invite myself in, shuffle him off to the bath, and resume cleaning. I focus on wiping down the dust from as many corners of the room I can find, then give it up as a lost cause. It looks like the walls are just permanently grey. How dreary.

Timeline’s been moved up then.

Forget a month, I’m getting him out of here as soon as humanly possible.

I toss the used rag into the trash, sighing when it misses and splats on the ground.

A giggle, then, “Wow Aika-nee, that sucked.”

Naruto in his jammies, ugh, what a cutie. Even if he was making fun of me, the little shit.

“Some of us aren’t great ninjas-in-training,” I say, sticking my tongue out even as I pick up the rag and deposit it properly. “Now let’s get you tucked in.” Naruto scrambles in when I lift the sheets for him and I make an executive decision.

“What time to you get up for school, sweetheart?” I ask.

Naruto wrinkles his nose - oh, freckles, I didn’t notice that before - and whines, “At 8 Aika-nee, can you believe school starts that early?”

“Yes,” I return dryly, “How dare someone wants you to get a proper education.”

Although, now that I think about it, was he actually getting a well rounded education? From what I read earlier today, it seemed that Aika’s classes were strictly focuses on practical applications. But then again, she grew up in war time measures so . . . there was really no way to tell unless I looked through Naruto’s school work myself.

And of course I would, who was I kidding?

For someone who could barely keep a houseplant alive in my previous life, I was weirdly comfortable with taking on the responsibility of the care of a whole other human being.

“I’ll be here at 8 then,” I tell him, already visualizing the morning market - it was oddly vivid, instead of a vague impression I normally got from old-Aika’s memories. Maybe it’s something she went to often? Well, at least I’d know my way around.

“Now, a lullaby?”

And I sang Naruto to sleep to the classic Somewhere Over the Rainbow, in the same low tones my own mother used to sing to me, sitting on the bed and running my hands through his hair as I did so.

I’d have to go to a realtor tomorrow, I decide, since I’m gonna need a bigger place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's alternate title was "In Which I Learn Some Bullshit Things About This Girl's Past"


	4. In Which I Cook and Learn What My Job Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bentos aren't that hard to make. Money? That's the real issue I gotta concentrate on.

7 am again and I want to weep.

I’m absolutely not a morning person and I hate that this body is  _ and I miss coffee so goddamn much- _

Deep breaths. No crying this early.

Okay, we gotta shit to do today.

First, get dressed. Another skirt-long sleeve combo, because fuck yukatas honestly. How is anyone supposed to move in those? Miraculously, I have a pale orange shirt and a blue skirt and I wear them, because solidarity. If I’m going to do this, I may as well go all the way, right? Purse, sandals, and out the door as I sweep my hair up into a messy bun. 

I take a few steps down the stairs before remembering I need bento boxes and furoshiki and to bring my own bags to shop with.   
Dammit.

Now slightly late, I make my way down to the marketplace.

Even so early, the market is buzzing with energy, yelled advertisements flying across the streets and bartering at every stall. It’s enticing, but I don’t have time to look more. I don’t bother with bartering this time around, just buying my items straight off when given the asking price, even knowing I was getting a bit cheated. I get brisket, because it’s relatively cheap and easy and quick to cook. As for vegetables: bok choy, carrots, and onions. I hesitate at the spice stall before caving and buying garlic, ginger, and cayenne. 

Not because I need the last one, but because the shop keep said it was the last of his stock and I’m greedy.

I buy a bottle of vegetable oil and soy sauce, because I doubt Naruto has them. And lastly a three pound bag of rice. Here’s to hoping he has more than one pot at home.

I arrive at his doorstep a few minutes after 8, arms laden and aching.

“Naruto! Open up! I can’t knock!”

The door flies open a second later.

I can’t even see Naruto over the mound in my arms and I hustle past him, gratefully setting my load down on his kitchen table.

“Morning, sweetheart!” I greet him, seeing as how he’s trailed after me from the front, looking vaguely confused. I reach over and ruffle his hair, before opening his fridge. “Hey, when’d you buy these eggs?”

“Uh, a couple weeks ago?”

“Good, good. Can you show me where your pots and pans are?”

He has exactly one pan and one pot, but honestly that was better than I was expecting. I set to rinsing them out, happy that they’ve seen some use and that Naruto hasn’t been eating instant ramen for all three meals like it implied in the series. I wash the rice and then set it on immediately at low heat, with a cover to trap the steam. I set the other pan on the stove, at the ready. Immediately, I turn to start grabbing the rest of my purchases.

Then I notice Naruto, still standing and staring.

“Well?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, “Aren’t you going to get dressed for the Academy? Standing there isn’t gonna make breakfast get done any faster.”

Naruto blinks rapidly, then smiles brilliantly.

“Right, dattebayo!”

His footsteps thud as he runs to the bathroom.

“Make sure to brush your teeth!” I call and hear and vague agreeing shout. 

Eh, good enough.

Now, I may not be a super ninja, able to do fancy knife tricks, but I did grow up with a mother who made sure her child knew how to cook. With only one wooden cutting board, I had to be clever about this. First, I chopped up the bok choy in bite sized pieces, diced the onion, and cut the carrot into mostly even bits. I mined the garlic and ginger until they looks mostly like paste. Ah, used too much power, as per usual. 

I sectioned off all the ingredients before pulling out the piece of beef. It was almost 8 ounces - wait, what was that in grams? Fuck if I knew, damn American education system - but it would be enough for a huge appetite like Naruto’s. Hence the two bento boxes for him. Just in case he got hungry later or something.

Oh my god, I was becoming such a mom.

I forced down the urge to flail into dramatics, instead focussing on cubing the meat. That done, I added a dollop of vegetable oil to the pan and turned it up to medium heat. Once at the appropriate heat, I slid the garlic and ginger in first, followed by the meat. No cooking chopsticks, so I made due with normal ones, browning the meat until I could slide it to the side and add the vegetables as well as a too-long-pour of soy sauce.

Ah, stir fry.

You can’t go wrong. 

So easy, so simple.

And that gives me more than enough time to fry an egg.

By the time Naruto is ready, I’ve already set out a bowl of rice for him, topped with an egg sunny-side up and sprinkled with smaller bits of the beef I removed from the stir fry and chopped up to add to it.

Yeah, admittedly, not the best or most creative breakfast, but I was kinda blindsided when I wasn’t able to find bread in his pantry.

Lots of instant ramen though. The collection was actually pretty impressive. 

Disturbing! But impressive.

“Eat up Naruto, I don’t know how long you need to eat and head off to school but it’s nearly nine, god daaaaa-”

Oh, right, Naruto. No cursing. Forgot.

“-ang it.” I finish lamely, to which Naruto gives me a strangely astute look of judgement before digging into his breakfast. I grab both of the already packed lunch boxes and tie them up in a furoshiki. Both of them have an even amount of rice and stir fry in them, so that if Naruto decides to save one for later, he’ll have a full meal for both. 

I clean the dishes as he’s eating, leaving them on the stove to dry since I may have just thrown out his only kitchen rag last night. 

Oops.

“Thanks for the meal, Aika-nee!”

The brat tries to leave his dishes in the sink, but I tsk and tug lightly at his ear for it.

“Wash it, sweetheart, don’t put it off.”

Naruto wrinkles his nose, but I start him down until he starts washing it. Grumbling the entire time, but actually doing it, which makes me smile proudly. As I wait for Naruto to finish up, I pack up the leftover stuff that I brought, slinging it all into a single bag to carry back to my apartment. I grab the lunchboxes and wait by the door for Naruto to grab his goggles (I forgot about those) and slip on his (truly ugly) blue ninja shoes.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup!”

I step out first and let Naruto lock up before holding out my hand.

“Where to for the Academy?” I ask, and Naruto grins with that sunshine bright smile of his and puts his hand in mine.

 

* * *

 

I drop Naruto off at school and tell him I’ll be back to pick him up at 4:30 to pick him up and suggest eating at my place.

He enthusiastically agrees.

So back to my apartment to do a stock check and eat some breakfast, which is just toast with a fuckton of butter because I’m lazy and I also adore butter.

There’s . . . really not a lot to choose from otherwise.

Bread, butter, sake and that’s essentially it.

For a second, I wonder how I missed this distinct lack of food before remembering that it’s only been two days since I arrived here and I’ve basically only had Teuchi’s incredibly nourishing and filling ramen. Right, time to fix that.   
I retreat to the desk to grab a pen and paper to make a list with, when I notice what’s at the top of the stack. It looks like a manuscript of some sort. I pick it up, read the first line, and nearly choke on my own spit.

 

_ Minami’s limpid cerulean orbs glistened in the low light, her skin iridescent with the sweat from her and Kazushi’s previous ministrations glimmering like gems across the expanse of her pale breast- _

 

Oh god. 

Oh god it was so fucking bad. 

Oh please don’t tell me this is old-Aika’s writing-

FUCK IT IS.

I howl with laughter. I sink to the floor, clutching at my stomach with one hand, the other fisted in another page to keep reading.

 

_ Kazushi’s toned, muscular, defined chest heaved with each explosive breath, caught in the ecstasy of embracing Minami, his only love. Her beautiful plump lips beckoned him forward, her tempting presence mingling with her jasmine perfume and shaking his thoughts until nothing else remained but the thought of her- _

 

I laugh so hard I cry, my cheeks and stomach aching from the sheer force of my body shaking with laughter. I can’t even look at the paper anymore, it’s too terrible to continue reading. It takes me a good hour to calm down, until my laughter trails off into wet hiccups every once in a while. Oh fuck.

That was too good.

It was so terrible, it was good.

Although I know it’s too much to hope that old-Aika’s writings are nothing more than intensely satirical pieces, the thought of me - a literal editor - being pushed into the body of someone with a tendency for purple prose is too ironically hilarious for me not to appreciate.

At least I know what Aika’s job is.

She’s a shitty romance writer.

Fucking hilarious.

 

* * *

 

After I’m done laughing my ass off, I fix myself up into something more presentable and head off towards the bank. Wanting a bigger apartment for Naruto and I to share is nice and all, but I have no idea if I can afford it.

So I stride into the bank and confront a teller and soon I’m leaving the bank with the disheartening knowledge that I’m poor as shit.

Turns out that Aika is just an aspiring writer. The salary she has now is from an unidentified source which made me incredibly wary and the rest of her money is from savings. I almost asked where the fuck she was able to get her hands on that much cash, before thinking that may be a bad idea to admit to your bank teller. So I shut up and resolved to read more of Aika’s journals later.

On the plus side, knowing my shitty financial situation means I don’t also have to go to the real estate agent and talk to more people.

On the down side, this also means I have to go home and edit that monstrosity so I can actually sell it and get money.

Wait, fuck, dinner, I needed to buy dinner. 

Off to the market I go again.

 

* * *

 

It hits me when I’m back in the marketplace, squeezing peaches for their freshness, that Jiraiya and I basically have the same job: authors of incredibly shitty novels.

However, unlike Jiraiya, I’m doing his other job for him by taking care of Naruto.

Bastard.

He totally flaked on taking care of his precious student’s son and everyone excused and forgave him for it. While I’m at it, fuck Tsunade too. She and Naruto are literally related and she never did a damn thing to help him either. Kakashi gets a pass, because as far as I remember, he was barely a teen when Minato and Kushina died and thus was in no position to take care of an infant. 

But he’s on thin fucking ice for not even having he common decency to even _visit_.

“Uh, are you going to pay for that?”

I blink at the sound of the shopkeeper’s voice, then notice the sticky feeling coating my hand. I look down at the peach I had squished in my grip and chuckle sheepishly.

“My bad, shopkeeper-san, uh, yeah, I’ll pay.”

 

* * *

 

With food bags heavier and wallet much lighter since those shopkeepers are merciless and I bought enough for a whole week, I finally return home.

I put everything away and consider taking out a bottle of sake to drink while I read that purple monstrosity, but in the end I decide against it.

Knowing drunk me, she’d probably set it on fire.

A warranted reaction, but I’m sure some editing would make it tolerable enough to publish.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

 

* * *

 

Fours hours go by as I correct old-Aika’s terrible sentence compositions and eradicate as much purple prose as I possibly can. Then I begin fixing her shitty plot (about a forbidden love between a dude ninja and a civilian woman, like, wow, self insert much Aika?) that has entirely too many flowery fight/death/sex scenes to tolerate.

I barely get halfway through this 300 page monstrosity before it’s time to get Naruto.

He’s playing with a couple of kids - and I’m shocked to recognize baby Shikamaru and baby Chouji - then Naruto notices me and shouts, “Aika-nee!” before bolting over.

Although I have time to brace for the impact, it stills knocks the breath out of me.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” I wheeze, “How’s my favorite ninja today?”

“Great!” he answers cheerful, arms still locked around my hips as Shikamaru and Chouji make their way over to me as well. I nod politely at them, turning back to listen to Naruto chatter on about his day and how his prank is coming together and how Iruka-sensei didn’t yell at him at all today and blamed the tack incident on Kiba and-

“Naruto, we’re going too.” 

Naruto and I both look up at Shikamaru and Chouji and framed by the sun I can see Shikaku standing at the edge of the Academy playground and - wait . . .

Ah, shit, this is canon, isn’t it?

Shikaku, oblivious to my realization, simply nods a polite greeting at me, the lines around his eyes just a bit too lax to be believable. The solid line of his shoulders are tense, something I wouldn't have seen if I wasn't looking for it. He was obviously - and understandably - wary about seeing an unknown woman around the Konoha jinchuuriki. Actually, from what I remembered of canon, Shikaku was actually friends with Minato and Kushina. Why the fuck didn't he take Naruto in then? Despite the low anger I can feel twisting my face, I attempt a smile back, give a short bob of a bow that would likely be lower if Naruto wasn’t clutching like a barnacle to my waist. 

I can’t bring myself look at Jonin Commander for too long.

Those dark eyes are terrifying.

They feel like they can see right into my soul.

“We gotta go too!” Naruto exclaims, “Aika-nee is cooking dinner!”

“Oh, cool,” Shikamaru says, hands in his pockets. “See you.”

The boy gives me a cool glance, entirely too intelligent eyes in a baby young face, and I tilt my head at him, letting my polite smile loosen a bit to something warmer. The tenseness of his shoulders relax and he nods a goodbye, he and Chouji making their way over to his dad at an easy lope.

Funny how important subtext is here. 

Everything can be conveyed in just a few short movements.

Well, almost everything.

“Come on, sweetheart, time for dinner!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how torship's and my schedule go simultaneous fucked up busy at the same time. It's finals week for me and I still have so many things due. Don't procrastinate kids, it'll bite ya in the ass.


	5. In Which Domestic Shit Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good a subtle things, but I figure suddenly making Naruto live with me may be too startling. So baby steps. Sleepover first!

I make satay for dinner and it fucking blows Naruto’s mind.

For good reason, I mean, because satay is delicious even if I had to cobble together my own peanut sauce that tastes ever so slightly off to me. But, whatever, since he’s happy with the  taste of the chicken skewers, I am too. He chatters about his day and I talk about mine. We finish dinner and start on dishes, with me washing and him drying.

Then I drop the bomb.

“So, sweetheart,” I say, drying my hands after doing dishes, “how’s your homework for tonight?”

Naruto freezes. His shoulders hunch up to his ears, but he keeps drying obediently.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, chuckling.

“I forgot Aika-nee!” 

Awwww, that pouty face is just so cute! Would I undermine my authority with him if I coo and pinch his cheeks? Probably. Would it be worth it? Absolutely.

Am I going to do it? No, sadly, because I have to impart some mad wisdom to him right now.

Next time.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” I tell him, and he blinks up at me in shock. I kneel by him, to better look him in the eye. “You’re only human and that means you’ll forget things every once in a while. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if that happens. However,” I reach out and grabs his hands, cradling them in both of mine. I’ve never noticed how tiny they are until now. 

“However, I want you to try and remember from now on, okay? This is an important time for you, when you’re learning new things, and I don’t want you to miss out on doing the best you can in class. Do you understand where I’m coming from sweetheart?”

Naruto nods his head slowly.

“And if you need any help,” I add cheerfully, “I’d be more than happy to offer my services!” 

“Really?” He looked so cautiously hopeful, like he couldn’t believe I was offering to spend even more time with him. Ah, this poor kid had no idea. He was never going to get rid of me now.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I drop his hands and stand, grabbing the abandoned dish towels and hanging them up. Naruto copied me when I took of my apron, and I hung up both from a peg in the kitchen. 

“Now, it’s time to walk you home-” And there’s the sad, kicked puppy look again, good lord that was unfair. No wonder everyone in the series ended up tripping over themselves to make him happy. 

“-but I’ll bring breakfast and lunch over to you tomorrow, alright?”

 

* * *

 

That system repeated for the next few days.

I woke up early, made Naruto’s lunch at my place, brought it over and made breakfast for both of us at his place, then walked him to the Academy for school. I’d return home and edit The Monstrosity to something tolerable for the next couple of hours, before leaving to pick up Naruto. I’d bring him back to my apartment, where I’d help him with his homework until dinnertime. The little sweetheart was a wonderful sous chef, filled with excitement if not skill. We ate, we cleaned up, I’d walk him back to his house, made sure he bathed and then would tuck him in. I’d go home, go to sleep, and the cycle would repeat.

Until ten days into our association, at least.

Then I asked him to have a sleepover.

 

* * *

 

“I know it’s a school day and all,” I babble, suddenly self conscious of the way I blurted it out as we were walking back home one day, “but I just thought that my apartment is closer to the Academy than yours and you might be able to get a little bit more sleep and Naruto, sweetheart, please respond to me, this is making me nervous.”

He was going to catch flies if his jaw was anymore lax. 

“YES DATTEBAYO!” he practically screamed, and started jumping up and down, looking exactly his age. “A sleepover! Yes! You mean tonight, right Aika-nee?”

“Yes, tonight, if you’re okay with that.” I wanted to give him a chance to say no, just in case.

“YEAH!”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. It was always so refreshing to see him so cheery. He was like a tiny dollop of pure sunshine - I couldn’t help but want to bask when he was around.

“Okay, let’s go to your place first and pick up a change of clothes and some other stuff.”

I don’t think Naruto was ever before in such a hurry to get back home to his lonely apartment. He bust through the door and snatched up his never used backpack, shoving it full of random clothes before I interfered, showing him how to pack for an overnight trip properly. Clothes for tomorrow, clothes for tonight, a change of underwear . . . I was proud of him for grabbing his toothbrush without my prompting.

“Good thought sweetheart,” I tell him, “but I already got you a toothbrush, so you can leave that one here.”

We’re out of that rat trap in less than ten minutes, and end up at my apartment much later than normal, but with enough time that I shoo him off to do his homework as I prep dinner. So far, I’ve been whipping through all the recipes in old-Aika’s dusty-when-I-found-them cookbooks, but as soon as I was done editing The Monstrosity, I was going to start recreating the shit I grew up with. The satay was so long ago, and I missed it dearly. I couldn’t wait to make other good stuff, like pasta and fried chicken and burgers and - shit, could I invent pizza?

Dough is easy as shit to make, I could probably pull off making pizza.

Hell yes, pizza here we come.

But tonight, I serve up the oyakodon and soon it’s bath time. 

“Alright sweetheart, do you want to take a bath with me, or no?”

From what I understood about bathing culture in Japan from before, my offer was both unusual and not. Because on one hand, the bathing culture so prevalent here meant weren’t as squicky about parents bathing with their children, even when they were older than toddler age. On the other hand, I was still an unrelated adult woman bathing with a young child not my own. Who also happened to be the equivalent of a nuke, but whatever.

Really, I just wanted to make sure Naruto was washing himself properly.

“I’ll take a bath with you, Aika-nee.”

I smiled, “I’ll start the bath now then. You finish your homework.”

With that, I grabbed two sets of towels and washcloths, setting them on a stool outside the immediate bathing area. I filled up the tub, making it slightly too hot, since it would cool while Naruto and I were washing ourselves. 

“Naruto! Bathtime!”

Like all seven year olds, he was reluctant to bathe, but as he was still afraid of disappointing me, he went in. I’d have to make sure to clear the air with him about that later, when I wasn’t scrubbing him down. 

Note to self: Naruto is very ticklish and that means he squirms entirely too much in the bath.

I swear, if I didn’t have so much experience washing my family’s dogs, this would have been way harder. As it was, it was still exhausting to clean him, even though I was proud of myself for being able to do so with no cursing. I relaxed while in the bathtub, head reclined on the edge of it as Naruto sat between my knees and played some sort of ninja-based game with the two rubber duckies I had bought.

When our skin started wrinkling is when I ejected both of us out, to Naruto’s protesting because he wasn’t done with his game.

“We need to go sleep sweetheart. You know, for school tomorrow?”

I was too tired to deal with this right now. The bathtime in general wore me out way too much and I read through some truly terrible parts of The Monstrosity. I wanted to sleep.

“Nooooo, I wanna play more Aika-nee!” He still has the rubber duckies clasped in hand.

“You can play again tomorrow, sweetheart, but bed, now, please.”

He lit up, eyes bright with excitement. “I can play tomorrow? So we’ll have another sleepover?”

“Of course, sweetheart, whatever makes you happy, I’ll provide. Just please put on your pajamas.”

He slipped into them without complaint, which I when I realized that I didn’t actually have a futon for him.

“Shit.”

“Ooh, you said a bad word.”

I stuck my tongue out at Naruto, giggling when he did the same. 

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, I forgot I didn’t have a futon.”

“It’s okay, Aika-nee, I can sleep on the couch.”

Ha, yeah right.

I leaned down and picked Naruto up, huffing as I did so. Man, this kid is way heavier than I thought he would be. I paused for a moment, remembering how light he was when I first met him. Was it possible to bulk up in just two short weeks? 

…Maybe I should cut down on the amount of food I’m giving him.

When I reached my bedroom, I plopped him down on the mass of my bed.

“You’ll sleep right here, sweetheart.”

“But it’s your bed, Aika-nee!” he says, wiggling like a fricken eel to escape.

“You’re. The one. Who needs. A good rest. And a couch. Isn’t. Going to. Do that for you!” 

The sentence comes out in fragments as I try to tuck him in and Naruto tries to scramble out of my hold.

“I don’t mind! I’m okay with it!”

“I’m not, sweetheart, I can’t put you out like that while I stay in a nice bed.”

“We can share!” Naruto blurts, then looks embarrassed that he suggested it in the first place.

“Promise not to snore?” I joke, smiling when he protests at the mere thought that he would snore. I shuffle him back to the bathroom so that we can brush our teeth, before tucking us both into bed. This king size motherfucker is glorious to sleep in, and both Naruto and I sigh in pleasure when we get settled in.

“Aika-nee?” he asks, pulling the comforter up to his nose. “Could you tell me a story?”

He looked up at me, blue eyes wide and soft and trusting, and I felt my heart clench painfully in my chest. I couldn’t help but wonder if Naruto was ever told a bedtime story. I doubted any of his previous caretakers would have bothered. 

God that was so lonely.

I steeled myself - that wasn’t going to happen again. As long as I lived, Naruto would never again know what loneliness felt like, and I’d do my damned fucking best to give him every ounce of love he deserves.

“Of course, sweetheart, let me tell you one about a brave princess called Mulan . . .”

 

* * *

 

“. . . And Mulan was seen as the hero of China from to the end of her days, and she lived happily ever after. The end.”

The last part I whispered, since Naruto was already drifting off into sleep, having held out admirably long as I recounted the Disney-fied version of the Chinese tale. During the story, Naruto proved to be the curious sort, who asked questions that I had to sidetrack to answer, before looping back to the original story. I pulled the sheets up higher around him, tucking him in securely before laying beside him, cautiously throwing an arm around his middle like I would have done to my younger nieces and nephews from my life before.

“Sweet dreams, Naruto,” I murmured to him, and then I too sank into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short guys. I may post another chapter sooner than normal to make up for it, but my ass is getting kicked with all this dumb paperwork for my scholarship trip. Long story, but let's just say that some people are immensely tired of seeing my emails in their inbox now. Anyways! Hope you enjoy!


	6. In Which Ninjas Ain't As Slick As They Think They Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I meet someone new and find out where all of Aika's money comes from

My alarm blares and Naruto smacks it off the table.

It still screams, but not slightly muffled due to it’s impact on the floor. Hardy thing, that piece of tech is. Naruto makes a disgruntled half-moan, half-groan and turns away from the edge of the bed, wiggling his way closer and basically burrowing into my arms. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he’s a cuddler. He had been clinging to me like a koala all night. It was like sleeping with the most comfortable stuffed animal ever, even if he did run slightly too hot.

The alarm silences on it’s own and Naruto relaxes against my arms, the instinctual tense against a loud noise softening. He looks so cute in his sleep! Rosy red cheeks from the heat of the blankets and a messy bedhead. His expression is completely at peace.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let him sleep a bit longer would it? We still had time before he had to get to school…

_ No _ , I tell myself firmly.  _ Get up. You know you’ll fall back asleep if you stay. Come on asshole, you have a responsibility now. You have to be an adult. _

Ugggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

I get up.

But I’d like it noted that I am extremely bitter that I have to do so.

I’m careful to move so that Naruto doesn’t wake up when I get out, swapping places with a pillow as quickly and efficiently as if I had used one of those ninja tricks I remember from the show. Then I shuffle off to the kitchen to make pancakes. 

From scratch.

I figure we need a change of pace from the protein-heavy breakfast I normally feed him so he has enough energy to get through all of his morning workouts. 

Oh, yeah, the Academy? Apparently it has like three different P.E. classes. A morning cardio, a midday weapons class, and an afternoon strength class. It’s sort of mind-boggling that seven year old kids can keep up with that kind of physical exertion.

I consider the egg in my hand before cracking it into the mix. Is it something in the food here? That makes these kids so hardy. Well, logically speaking it’s probably genetics. There’s a whole bunch of selective breeding here - I mean, just look at the clans. Specialized traits? Weird eyes that do weird shit? BUGS THAT LIVE IN HUMAN SKIN? If it’s not selective breeding, then I’m the Daimyo of Fire Country.

I pour too many chocolate chips into the mix and then try and balance it out with more strawberries, but the now-finished pancake mix turns out entirely too chunky for my taste.

...Oh well.

Chocolate makes everything better anyhow. I’ll just have to send an apology not to Naruto’s teachers later.

On the other hand, how many of them are dicks to him?

...Hmm, I guess I need to arrange a parent-teacher meeting soon.

Naruto stumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, but drawn by the smell of warm sweetness and chocolate.

“Wha’ssat?” he mumbles out, bumping into my leg like a drowsy bumblebee and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

My heart clenches painfully. Oh god. This kid is going to kill me. 

But god, what a way to go.

“Pancakes, sweetheart,” I tell him, “They’re for special occasions only though, you hear me? This is not going to be an everyday thing.”

The blond menaces immediately perks up at the idea of a ‘forbidden’ food and I mentally berate myself for phrasing it that way. Oops.

Distraction time!

“Here.” I plate a short stack and set it on the counter for him to grab. “There’s butter on the table.”

But no maple syrup, which is a goddamn tragedy, but I’ll soldier on somehow.

Naruto grabs his pancakes and hustles over to the table, grabbing the butter knife and practically slathering his pancakes with butter. Then he tears into them with ferocious ardor and yes, this boy is definitely my child now.

* * *

I drop a rather sugar-hyped Naruto off at school, slightly late, but with a note that essentially told the teacher that he was helping me with some chores. I don’t know if that would actually help him or not, but I admit it is a bit of a test. 

If he comes home and complains about being punished for being late, even with said note, I’m gonna be as aggressive as humanly possible to get a parent-teacher conference. If he is excused then I’ll cut them some slack.

Now that Naruto’s been dropped off, I can go shopping and job hunting. More fruit for Naruto’s lunches, and maybe I could find yeast so I could make my own bread? I was sure there was a grocery store in the Naruto’verse, in addition to the outside market. Maybe? 

Here’s to hoping.

I wander down the marketplace, eye out for jobs ads and items on my list alike, with no regard for the people passing around me whatsoever. 

That is, of course, when someone taps me on the shoulder.

I turned to face them with all the cool disregard-

...

Okay, I’ll admit, I may have jumped and screamed a little. 

But only a little!

“Sorry,” Shiranui Genma says, looking not sorry at all. You know, in the manga and anime, that senbon looked rather unassuming, but in reality, it was kind of really intimidating. He was also kinda looming over me, which was not cool. I squared my shoulders against it, refusing to back down. Stupid, probably, but I’m not really good at that ‘making good decisions’ thing.

“Sorry for screaming,” I tell him back. Then, redundantly: “You scared me.”

“Occupational hazard,” he says, waving it away with an easy hand and an easier smile. “I just wanted to say that you dropped this.”

He holds out my money pouch.

The one that was tucked securely into my bag.

The bag that I had my hand on the entire time.

_ Oh Jesus H. Christ, did he really? _

I glance down, feeling the outside of my bag with the tender pads of my fingers and - ah, yup, right there, a little slit in the fabric, just large enough to slip two fingers in and grab a cloth bag out of.

“You owe me a new purse,” my mouth says without permission. 

“I’ll buy you one right now,” he says, not missing a beat. “Come on, I know a great shop over near that new sweets shop.

_ Subtle, thy name is NOT Genma. _

“Lead on,” I say, making an equally flippant hand wave, like what he had done earlier. From the slight smirk that plays at his lips, he gets the reference.

The ‘ _ I Know That You Know That I Know What’s Going On _ ’ kinda Spy vs Spy bullshit, but without either of us actually saying anything.

So we both know exactly why he’s here, why he’s stolen my coin bag from my purse, the fact he’s already technically failed his mission, but we’re still keeping the charade up because I played along.

Fantastic.

I’m glad I’m not a ninja, this kinda bullshit would have been too confusing to deal with on the daily.

Still, I suppose I should have expected someone to personally investigate me after the sleepover stunt. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon. Which, I concede, may be the reason why they acted so soon - to get me off balance and all that. If this was old-Aika, who knows how she would have reacted? Would she have fallen for his trick? I mean, if I didn’t immediately recognize Genma as a character who (I think) is still in ANBU, would I have thought this was just a friendly, neighborhood ninja returning a dropped purse? Maybe, maybe not. But the fact is, I was expecting them and thus was on the lookout for any kind of ‘chance’ encounter like this.

Genma was probably the best choice to send after me, tactically speaking. Canon - or fanon? - heId that he was pretty good with the ladies. 

Well, it sort of works? But likely not for the reason they think.

After all, how could any of them have guessed that I had a massive crush on Genma when I was an embarrassing, gross preteen?

So, yeah, those flirty side smiles and attempts at conversation (that fall flat, when I return anything spoken at me with a bland, vapid smile) are throwing me into turmoil with all those horrible middle school flashbacks.

God.

I want to perish.

Why me.

“How can I help you today?” a chipper voice says, and I blink back into reality when Genma and I cross the threshold to the store. The clerk is a cute young woman who has eyes only for Genma.

“My friend here,” he says, ignoring my scoff, “need a new bag.”

“Yeah,” I chip in, voice dry, “Something sturdy enough to stop a cutpurse.”

Genma looks back at me and I meet his gaze with a flat one of my own. He doesn’t look remorseful, per se, but he does seem like he’s re-evaluating his opinion of me.

Good.

Now for the final nail in the coffin.

“So what’s the most expensive one you have?” I ask the clerk.

* * *

An hour and several thousand yen later (for Genma), we emerge from the shop.

“You know, you could have just asked,” I say offhandedly, admiring my new purse. It’s damn nice - the expensive shinobi-grade weapons pouch material on the inside and a pretty patterned silk on the outside, with a cross-body strap made of metal and leather. Very nice.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Genma asks, and I don’t need to look at him to hear the smirk in his voice. “I had forgotten that you were in the Academy for a while too, Aika-chan.”

“Shouldn’t that be Aika-senpai to you? I was a few years ahead, even if I did have to drop.”

I’m trying to pull on some of old-Aika’s memories, trying to see if I did know Genma from the Academy years, but she’s giving me nothing. Every day that passes is less leftover information that I’m getting from her and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I’m still a stranger here, and the idea of being cast even more adrift in this strange place is almost more than I can handle.

Honestly, the fact I haven’t had a complete mental breakdown yet is astounding.

“And I’m a special jounin and you’re not, so I think it cancels out.”

“If you say so,” I say, injecting my voice with enough doubt that he looks mildly affronted for a moment. I make us stop and get taiyaki, because the sweets shop is right there and I’m a hoe for food. I also buy one for Genma, because I’m a nice fucking person.

Then I meander around, with Genma at my heels, until we get to one of the many Konoha parks. I beeline towards a tree and sit, patting the ground next to me invitingly. Genma, bless his heart, doesn’t even hesitate to follow my lead. I wait until he’s settled before sprawling more out on the grass, basking in the sunlight like a cat.

“I think Shikaku is regretting not taking this mission,” he says, only halfway done with his taiyaki. Weak, I had it finished within the minute. 

“Well, that’s too bad for him, isn’t it?”

Another beat of silence before I sigh.

“You aren’t just going to ask, are you?”

“I have no idea what you mean Aika-chan.”

Stubborn ass.

Well, whatever, he can play it like that if he wants. I’m going to tell him what Sarutobi needs to hear anyways so it doesn’t matter how either of them gets the information. 

“So I’ve taken this kid under my wing,” I say, “See, I didn’t really know who he was at the time. And then he said his name was Uzumaki. Weird, right? That he shares a name with my old on and off again sensei.”    


I make sure to watch Genma’s face as I say this, but I can’t detect a change.

Well, that’s almost to be expected. He is a real ninja, all trained to hide his emotions and shit. I’m just a slightly obsessive editor who spent days reading up on how to read body language to better edit a submission. There’s really no comparison there.

“I bought him ramen and then walked him home and then realized that this kid - this orphan - was being treated like shit and no one seemed to care. And I cared. So I started taking care of him.”

I roll onto my stomach, propping my chin up on my hands to look Genma more directly in the face.

“No kid deserves to live without love.”

No reaction.

More silence. 

I roll back and resume my cloud-watching.

“And that’s all there is to it?” Genma finally asks.

“That’s all there is to it.”

* * *

Genma leaves after a few more minutes of quiet sunshine-basking.

That went about as well as expected honestly.

I suppose I’ll know soon enough if Sarutobi will interfere or not. By which I mean, if he disapproves of me spending time with Naruto, he’s going to have to kill me to get me out of the picture. 

I don’t think I managed to properly convey that kind of devotion to Genma, and honestly, I don’t really want to. My affection for Naruto is - quite literally - impossible for anyone on this world to understand.

I grew up with him, I watched him grow and develop. I’ve seen him at his worst, at his best, at his happiest, at his saddest. I’ve seen him struggle and learn and grow. I saw him lose friends and gain them and I’ve seen him save the entire goddamn world.

There’s no one, and nothing here, that could come close to the type of relationship I have with Naruto. To the one I’m currently building with him.

That said, I need a plan of action.

I have to make enough money to support us for the next few years. We’re going to need a bigger apartment, to get Naruto more clothes as he grows, and all the things he’ll need as a fully qualified ninja. Whatever shady shit old-Aika was doing made good money, but there’s no hint of what she did at all from her bank statements.

The last option left for me to investigate were her journals.

That decided, I tearfully parted with my resting spot and went back home.

* * *

I skipped the rest of the journals to get to the most recent one. It was only half full, an easy read.

But it wasn’t an easy read.

It was about the farthest damn thing.

_ Oh boy. _

I knocked back another shot of sake. My fifth today and it wasn’t even after noon yet, but goddamnit I deserved it.

Old-Aika. 

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against sugar babies, but this girl . . . 

I don’t even have the words. At least she aimed high, but good god, why him? Surely one of the younger generations of shinobi would be better? Closer to her age at least.

I mean, Homura Mitokado had to be over 60, could he even get it up?

Ugh, not the question I want to ponder.

How the fuck is this real. Part of me refuses to believe it. It’s just. Not processing. The other part of me is wondering how the ever loving shit this all happened. I eye the other journals with distaste and then knock back another shot to brace myself to the inevitable hell I’m going to put myself through as I try and find out how all of this happened. I pull the next most recent journal forward and refill my cup, in anticipation of the next stupid bit of history I read in here.

_At least she wasn’t fucking Danzo_ , I think, but that somehow doesn’t comfort me at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the other chapter i promised y'all, with the kinda-sorta cliffhanger/info reveal that was supposed to show up later, but snuck it's way in to this chapter. hope u liked it :) bc my exchange trip is starting and this is basically all u guys will have for a month :)))))   
> see u next chapter!


	7. In Which I Find A New Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No disrespect to sex workers, but I personally feel kinda weird about selling my body to military dictators so we're gonna hard pass on that. Also, maybe I should explore that whole 'trained in seals by an Uzumaki' avenue more closely . . .

I take a shower.

I can’t help it. I feel so dirty now that I know this body has been touched by fucking Homura, one of the fuckwads directly responsible for all the shady shit that happened in Konoha. Or, at least I think he was? He was complicit at the very least. Too busy rolling in money and fucking his sugar baby it seems.

Shudder.

Fucking gross.

I turn the shower hotter and don’t get out until my skin is bright red.

* * *

 

I have a few more hours until I pick up Naruto and in that time I need to have a plan of attack.

 

Step one: get a job

I’d prefer one where I could use my actual skills as an editor, but how backwards and sexist were people here? I mean, nobody blinked at women shinobi, but still always seemed to push for women to have children. At that point though, was it the superiority based sexism that I was used to, or a military dictatorship driven societal pressure that needed more cannon fodder? It was hard to say. So a single, pretty, young woman applying for a career job may not go over well. I guess I could get two part time jobs? I swung that back in college when I worked at my campus library and then as a club bartender. I’m sure I could do the same here and finish editing The Monstrosity and take care of Naruto.

I’d die.

But I could do it.

  
  


Step two: make money

See step one.

  
  


Step three: get Naruto in the house with me asap

This one was a bit harder. Because on one hand, I have to give him his own room, so he has privacy when he wants it, but on the other, I want him out of that dumpster he calls an apartment fucking yesterday. The struggle is too real. So what do to? The part of me that still doesn’t really consider this as real is screaming at me to say ‘FUCK IT. THIS BOY IS MINE NOW. Y’ALL WASTED YOUR CHANCE. SUCK MY FAT DICK’ but the other part of me that doesn’t want to be murdered in my sleep says that’s a bad idea.

Hnnnngggh, we’ll skip and come back to that later.

 

Step four: read the rest of Aika’s journals

I need to understand the kind of person this girl is, her inner thoughts, the people she knows. Meeting Genma today had slapped me in the face that I can’t bullshit my way through this anymore. I need to know things instinctively. I can’t be caught unawares again, especially now that I know that old-Aika knows fucking Homura and probably Danzo and oh my god she probably knows Sarutobi.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t been murdered yet.

A weird combo of being Kushina’s not-quite-successor and his teammate’s fuck? 

Sarutobi.

Dude.

That’s pretty messed up.

 

* * *

 

“Have a good day at school today sweetheart?” I ask Naruto as we walk hand-in-hand back to my apartment, and he immediately launches into some story about a prank he’s pulled. I can’t help but smile helplessly as his excitement.

It’s been nearly two weeks since we’ve started this little system of ours and I’m amazed that we’ve made it this far. I won’t lie, but part of me thought for sure I was going to get offed by ANBU or something, but no. They’ve let Naruto and I live in peace. It’s a relief, honestly, the thought that Sarutobi may be seeing his mistakes and letting me raise Naruto the way this boy ought to have been raised in canon.

That is, with a loving family and all.

Anyways, since it’s almost an anniversary, I’m taking him out to Ichiraku’s, not that he knows it yet. It’s a surprise. I had already stopped by Ichiraku’s to tell them to have two bowls ready for us and I’m honestly ecstatic to see Naruto’s face when he realizes.

I take a different way around, so he doesn’t quite recognize where we are until we’re on the road that Ichiraku’s is directly on.

“Aika-nee?” he asks, realization breaking over his face, “Aika-nee, are we going to Ichiraku’s?”

“Yes we are.”

He crows loudly, letting go of my hand to spin around and hug me, which I readily return. 

“Thanks, Aika-nee,” he says, his voice low and solemn enough that I know he doesn’t mean the ramen. I stroke his head with one hand and hold him close with the other.

“You’re welcome sweetheart,” I say, “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he pulls away to smile brilliantly at me.

“Let’s go get ramen!” he shouts, and we do.

  
  


Teuchi is a gem, as ever, and discounts our final prices enough that it’s as if we had a single bowl each instead of two on my count and seven on Naruto’s. I tip them generously of course, and get into a mild smile-fight with Ayame as we keep pushing the money back and forth between each other. She finally takes it when I add another kan to the count with the obvious threat to add more.

It’s barely six when we leave, as we had come to Ichiraku’s right after school let out. An early dinner wasn’t going to hurt anyone, and I had already bought dango for dessert, which was waiting for us when we got home.

Naruto has a frog backpack slung over his shoulder, bought with my dwindling funds since the boy desperately needed something to bring his homework in. He’s so cute wearing it that it’s almost offensive.

“What did you guys go over in class today?” I ask.

“Chakra,” he answers promptly, “I took notes, ‘ttbayo!”

“Good job!” I squeeze his hand, smiling proudly at him when he looks up at me. “Anything else?”

“Uh, we went over sealing scrolls, but it was pretty boring,” Naruto admits, “Iruka-sensei said it was important, so he just kept droning on and on about it.”

Oh, so Iruka was his teacher? Wasn’t he still pretty young at this point in the series? I mean, Naruto was only seven. So if Iruka was about twenty two when Naruto was twelve, that meant he was currently teaching children about how to be a ninja was he himself was only seventeen!

. . . Wait, back up a sec--

“Sealing?” I ask, “They went over that?”

“Sealing scrolls,” Naruto corrects.

“I have notes on that,” I say, more to myself than him and an idea begins to brew in the back of my mind. I smile at Naruto. “I guess we’re both going to be doing some studying tonight then.”

 

* * *

 

I end up staying up way later than Naruto does. 

He’s asleep around eight o’clock, tucked away in my bed, and my desk lamp has been angled up to spread light across the whole room. The couch, the coffee table, and large sections of the floor are covered in papers. Sheafs upon sheafs of papers undone and spread out. Old-Aika kept not only her personal journals, but her sealing notebooks from her time studying under Kushina as well. That’s what the stack of boxes in her apartment was for. They had reams of notebooks and loose papers and notes galore.

I had borrowed Naruto’s handout that had examples of the seal scroll matrix and now have it in front of me, comparing the two styles. 

And they were two very different styles.

I didn’t even realize what I was looking for before I was spotting the difference. A curved line here, where one was straight there. The kanji for space in the Konoha one, compared to the kanji for hollow in the Uzushio one. Just, subtle things. 

Reading over these notes was more like reviewing something over again instead of learning it for the first time. Information just slotted into place, easily, and I rocked back from my hunched over position to stare at my ceiling as the realization came down.

“I am the last inheritor of Uzushiogakure sealing techniques,” I tell it.

That’s . . .

Terrifying.

Absolutely downright terrifying. Is that the real reason I haven’t been offed? Or why Homura, aka part of the inner council, was old-Aika’s sugar daddy? To keep an eye on Kushina’s unofficial student? Because old-Aika may not have completed her schooling as a shinobi, but her notes on sealing were astounding in their completeness. From canon and fanon interpretations of Kushina, this level of comprehensive completeness was out of character, but old-Aika as a person seemed thorough and intelligent. 

Her notes though.

Good god.

They called Minato a genius for his invention of the Flying Thunder God Technique, but Aika’s notes showed she was well on her way to becoming something extraordinary herself. There’s notes, jotted down ides about lightning seals and water storage seals and delayed action triggers. Weapons with seals carved in them that could release elemental damage without compromising the structure of the metal. 

Something like melancholy burns in my stomach, the idea of her wasted potential. There’s nothing I can do for it now, no chance to become a ninja in anyway that mattered. Maybe if I was a teenager, instead of well into my twenties . . . but no, I can’t dwell on that.

I need to do more research to compare, but this-

I could make something out of this.

 

* * *

 

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, sleepy . . . 

“-nee, wake up.”

No, sleepy.

No wakey.

Just sleepy.

“Aika-nee, you gotta! Aika-nee, wake UP!”

I yelp as Naruto throws himself full body across me. Oh god why does my back hurt so much? I pat Naruto’s back, as he’s currently flopped over my stomach, and realize I spent the night outside in the living room. Papers are still scattered around me, slightly mussed up now that Naruto has woken me up.

“Time is it?” I ask, groggy still.

“Seven,” Naruto answers promptly, “That’s what your alarm said.”

“Good boy for waking me up,” I tell him, stroking his head like he’s a dog. The temptation to simply say ‘fuck it!’ and spend the rest of the day inside is near overwhelming, but I hustle us upright and going as the day normally demands.

It really never ends, huh?

 

I’ve just dropped the best boy off at school and am passing down the main street to go home when I see it.

A help wanted sign.

In a bookstore.

“Thank you Jesus,” I mutter before stepping inside. I take a deep breath in, simply enjoying the scent of books both old and new. God I missed this.

“That’s a good look, miss.” I smile at who I assume is the shopkeep, an aging man with pale blue hair and grey eyes. 

“Books are the best smell in the world,” I say, completely honest and am rewarded with a smile from him--small but no less bright.

“Is there a particular book you’re looking for?” he asks. He sets the stack he was carrying aside, moving slowly behind the counter where logbook sits, likely a list of all the books he’s carrying since this place doesn’t seem to have anything electronic besides the lights.

“Well, actually, I saw the help wanted sign and I was wondering if the position was still open.”

He blinks in surprise. 

“Really? A young lady like yourself?”

Wow, was it really that hard to think I wanted to work here? My smile becomes an tad strained, but I push forward.

“Yes, of course, I absolutely adore books. I couldn’t imagine anything better than working with them daily.” I fold my hands in front of me, straightening my back and looking him directly in the eye. A show of respect or dominance? The world may never know . . .

He looks me up and down, more seriously assessing, thank god. I don’t know how I would feel if sexism got me here, in a bookstore of all things. 

“How much can you carry at a time?” he asks, and I grin.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, I’m too old for interviews,” Hoshiki-san says, waving off my question. “You’ve proven your worth already, I’ll hire you.”

I should think, after working for two hours for free. Well, not that I had anything better to do.

“Your shifts will be Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesdays. Eight to two everyday. A thousand ryo per hour.” And that’s Hoshiki-san’s offer. It’s highway robbery, and would probably break some labor laws in my life before this, but I’ll take what I can get. 

And it’s Thursday, so I have a few days to prepare and tell Naruto.

“I’ll see you next Monday then Hoshiki-san!” I say and leave the shop.

Got step one squared away.

Now for the rest of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am . . . so sorry. I got back from abroad and things got really hectic because life hates me.  
> On the plus side, here's a new chapter and I am, in fact, working on an AU of this where Aika is reborn as a baby and grows up during the Third Shinobi War. I'm gonna try for a more serious vibe on that one, given the topic and the fact I am the biggest hoe for angst, so updates may take longer for that one. I do want to get the first chapter up before the end of the month though, so be on the lookout!


	8. In Which I Do Some Research and Break A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I find a copy of Icha Icha Paradice and break some news to Naruto. Uh, neither go well, but for very different reasons.

It’s been about a week since I started working at Hoshiki’s Honya and I’ve recently discovered that we have an adult section here. You know, for porn and stuff. Hoshiki-san didn’t give a shit about any sort of propriety, which was relieving. I don’t know what I would have done if he thought I was too delicate to handle that kind of stuff or whatever. But anyways.

In between the stacks of dumb porn mags and dildos, there it was.

Icha Icha Paradise.

How could I resist?

(Answer: I didn’t.)

“Hey Hoshiki-san?” I called, holding up one of the books that had gotten damaged in the shipment over. “Can I have this one?”

The elderly man squinted at the title. 

“Oh, those. Sure why not? They barely sell enough to be profitable anyways so it doesn’t matter if one is missing from stock.”

Thus allowed, I finish my shift, tucking the new book deep into my bag so Naruto wouldn’t see it, and then we to go pick up my boy from the Academy.

Good god I was such a mom.

I get to Academy at three, just in time for Naruto to come charging out like a maniac, a paper in his hands billowing wildly in the winds.

“Aika-nee!” he shouts, and I swoop down low to pick him up as he barrels straight into my arms. All those lifting books at Hoshiki’s have helped with some of my muscles, but I doubt I’ll been able to lift Naruto much in the coming years. He’s already seven and getting bigger everyday.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” I ask, as Naruto wriggles with pure excitement.

“I got a flower on my homework!” He holds up the paper for display and there is indeed a swirly circle with flower petals around it. I’d seen his homework before, which was mostly marked up with squares and triangles. I’m not sure how that translates to percentages or letter grades, but from Naruto’s despondent expressions, I’m sure those aren’t great marks. Circles are good, he’s had a couple of those before -- mostly from Iruka, god bless that man -- but this is the first time I’ve seen a flower.

He’s excited for it, so I’ll be excited too.

“That’s amazing Naruto!” I praise, spinning him around a bit. He shrieks gleefully, hands fisted into my shirt. He’s such a happy boy now, and it’s only been a few weeks since--

Wait.

No.

I’ve been here a month.

The realization pulls me up short.

So many things had happened that it’s felt like years have passed, but no. Only a month.

“Aika-nee?” Naruto’s subdued voice breaks through my haze and I blink down at him. He looks unsure again, cautious, and everything in me rebels at the look on his face. My sunshine boy should never look like that again, what I am doing? Stewing in melancholy when we have a reason to celebrate?

I shoot him a grin.

“I’m proud of you, Naruto,” I tell him, “Now! Let’s go to Ichiraku’s and tell Teuchi and Ayame the good news!”

Naruto cheers and off we go!

 

* * *

 

Teuchi gives us a meal on the house for Naruto’s grade.

That’s eight bowls for free. It’s way too generous, from anyone’s standpoint and I want to cry for Teuchi’s kindness. Neither the anime nor the manga conveyed how great this man was and that’s a damn disservice. He’s given us more free meals than meals we’ve had to pay for and while we don’t eat there everyday, I know we come often enough that he has to be taking a hit from Naruto’s huge appetite. Ayame and I have this war going, where I try and shove the full payment of our meals into the tip jar and she keeps hiding the tip jar from my sight. I’m about this close to being tempted to break in and leave the money in their register where they’ll have no choice but to take it.

Unfortunately, my stealth skills are abysmal, so quiet tip war it is.

Both of us are taking it a bit to personally at this point, but our pride won’t allow us to back down. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

 

* * *

 

By the time we get home, Naruto’s flagging with sleep and I have to pay extra attention in the bath to make sure he doesn’t drown in the tub. He’s dead weight when I finally throw him into bed. It’s been several days since he’s even gone back to his apartment, and the place is nearly entirely cleaned out. All of his clothes and school stuff is here, with most of his bedding. 

I’m ridiculously proud of myself.

Haven’t even been killed off by ANBU yet, so this is going fantastically, in my humble opinion.

I’m sure they’re being creepers and watching us, but since there’s nothing I can do about that, I have to endure. 

It’s still before 8, which is the time Naruto and I would normally be doing his homework together, but given the fact he’s asleep and I don’t have the will to wake him, I have a new gap of time.

And I know exactly what to do.

“Dun-dun du-dun!” I hum, lifting Icha Icha Paradise out of my bag triumphantly. I snatch up a red pen and flop down on my couch, ready to see if this is as much of a disaster as I thought.

 

* * *

 

It only takes three pages for me to figure out that it so is.

This is terrible, absolutely terrible. I mean, old-Aika had some awful purple prose, but oh my god it barely compares to Jiraiya’s trainwreck. I keep having to choke down laughter as I circle and underline truly awful parts, sections that I as an editor would have never allowed to be published. Dear god, I’m hardly a chapter in and he already has continuity errors. That’s almost impressive.

I mean, who could take a sentence like: “Suzume’s heaving bosom draws Kazuhiko’s palms like magnets; fleshy, supple magnets of sensuality and charisma” like it was serious?

If I didn’t know from the show that Jiraiya was a 100% genuine perv, I’d think this was a work of satire. I mark another line, snickering.

“If this is the quality I have to compete with,” I tell the open air, “getting published will be a breeze.”

 

* * *

 

In the meantime, however, the Monstrosity is living up to its name.

I don’t understand how old-Aika managed to bust this shit out when a quick look at her journals and notes reveal a completely different personality. It’s gap moe. Except it’s not cute at all, it’s just exhausting.

Jesus.

“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!” I scream to the room and can hear Naruto jump in shock. I ignore it, throw myself out of my chair and onto the ground. I reach up, yank a pillow off the couch, and bury my face in it to scream. It’s surprisingly therapeutic.

I don’t want to keep working, but my meager savings and minimum wage job is gonna do jack shit if I can’t get something out and published. I need to do this.

Unless . . .

_ Fuck copyright _ , I think, heaving my body up and off the floor. I stack the pages of the Monstrosity up and pack it away, bringing out a new sheaf of papers. I need money, I need it fast -- morals be damned. Besides, most of this was public domain, wasn’t it? I assumed fairy tales were. A small collection was probably the way to go anyways, and I knew most of these stories by heart.

Why not share it with this new world?

My pen moved with an ease I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“ _ Once upon a time in a far away land, there was a beautiful princess . . . _ ”

 

* * *

 

“Aika-nee, are you . . . alright?”

I blink up dazedly at Naruto. 

“Hngbuh?”

Naruto snickers. “You’ve been out of it for a while Aika-nee,” he says, “You’ve been writing for a long time.”

I blink at him, then blink in the direction of the clock. I squint. It reads 10 pm.

“What in the-”

It’s been eight hours. 

I’ve been writing for eight whole hours.

“Oh my god,” I wheeze. No wonder I passed out, that’s a stupid long time to have been concentrating on work. And that also means that-- “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t make anything for dinner, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Aika-nee, I made something.”

What.

“What?”

Naruto looks, well, embarrassed. Abashed maybe? Whatever it is, it makes his cheeks flush an adorable pink and he twists his fingers together and god he’s just too cute to bear!

“I made rice,” he says, “and we had some chicken katsu from yesterday so I heated that up too.”

A pause. “I made some for you, if you wanted.”

“Of course sweetheart!” I croon, reaching out to hug him. “I’m so happy you made something for me, thank you!” I begin to pepper his face with kisses, and he squeals with ticklish delight.

“Aika-nee!” he says, drawing out the syllables as if they’re a complaint, but he’s laughing so I don’t think it counts.

 

* * *

 

It’s Friday. 

Naruto’s finished with his homework and is coloring something at the kitchen table. Dinner has been eaten, the dishes are done, and my heart beats at a hundred miles an hour. 

Stacked on the coffee table are the my sealing notebooks. 

When I first started hammering my way through them, it seemed like par for the course that I had to teach Naruto. They were Uzumaki sealing techniques. Of COURSE I had to teach him. It’s what Kushina would have wanted. But Naruto lacks the sort of intuitive sense of sealing that I have, that I’m sure Kushina had. His grades in sealing class say that. His worksheets are filled with red colored corrections more than black inked answers. Despite how much I try and help him with his work, there are just somethings I can’t help him work through, since I don’t understand it either. At this point, I’m really hoping it’s simply an issue with the style of Konoha sealing and not a lack of talent.

Tonight was the night I’d find out for sure.

“Hey, sweetheart? Why don’t you come over here for a sec?” I pat the couch cushion at my side.

“Kay!” Naruto chirps, slipping out of his chair. He pads forward, gaining speed, before leaping onto the cushions and landing with his head in my lap. I couldn’t stop the fond smile if I tried.

“I know you’ve finished your homework,” I start, stroking his head as he preens under the attention, “but I’d like to give you an extra lesson, if you don’t mind.”

Naruto pulls a face, like I knew he would, and complains, like I knew he would.

“But Aika-nee, it’s the weekend! You said that we have to rest on the weekends!”

“That I did,” I say, “but this is important to me, and I wanted to share it with you.”

Blue eyes blink slowly up at me and I can see his switch into a solemn attitude. He sits up, facing me with a serious expression that makes his cute little cheeks chub out like a hamster’s. I very nearly coo before wrangling that impulse down.

“Have you heard of Uzushio?” I ask, picking up my first notebook. I flip open to the first page, the one with old-Aika’s meticulous introductory notes about the old village.

“No,” Naruto says, edging closer to my side, so he can look at the book better. I scoot back on the couch, swinging him in front of me and between my legs so we can both look at the book with ease.

“It was a village to the east of Konoha,” I point at an island that’s sketched into the notebook, where it’s a few miles off the coast from the Land of Fire and a bit south from the Land of Hot Water. “It was home to a clan of talented seal masters. It was thanks to their innovations that we’ve gotten where we are now in sealing.”

“Oh,” Naruto says, obviously not really invested.

I lick my lips.

This was the part I was unsure about mentioning to him, but I can’t . . . I can’t not. It would be such a disservice to him, to Kushina. I can’t deny him his heritage. I won’t.

“The ruling clan were the Uzumaki.”

I feel him go tense under my arms. There’s an awful moment of still silence, before his hand reaches out, caressing the location of Uzushio on the small map.

“They were . . . Uzumaki?” he asks, voice agonizingly sad, “Like me?”

“Just like you sweetheart,” I agree, freeing one hand to wrap around his middle in the semblance of a hug. “They were your ancestors.”

I’m fucking up.

I know I’m fucking up.

Even putting aside the shitstorm I’ll be enduring once Sarutobi gets wind this, I know Naruto’s reaction is going to be. And I know mine will break his heart.

“That means I have family!” Naruto says excitedly, “There’s a whole village of Uzumaki, I have a whole village of family Aika-nee!” 

Oh god.

I’m not strong enough for this.

Naruto looks up at me, face sunshine-bright with eagerness and hope, and I let the tears pool. He freezes at the sight of me. I don’t know what face I’m making, but it can’t be good.

“Aika-nee?” he asks, “Aika-nee, are you alright?” He gasps, like realization struck him. “I’m not gonna leave you Aika-nee! We can go to Usushio together!”

Oh my precious boy.

He’s such a good sweet boy and I’m a terrible person for having to do this.

“Naruto, no, we can’t.”

His face twists in confusion, “Well, why not?”

May god forgive me, because Naruto certainly won’t.

“Because the entire village was destroyed in the Second Shinobi War. No one survived.”

His face collapses.

I want to beg him for tears, for screaming, for anger, but instead his face just empties, as if he was expecting this result. Like he’s always ready for something good to be taken away.

“Oh baby,” I say softly. I’m about to pull him into a hug when he speaks again.

“Aika-nee, if no one survived, how am I an Uzumaki?”

“Uzushio and Konoha were sister villages,” I say, “and there were a couple of Uzumaki living here when Uzushio was destroyed. But there were very few, and the last of them besides you died in the Kyuubi attack.”

“Oh.” Naruto says, and then nothing after that. The hand fisted in my shirt trembles.

My plans for tutoring him in seals goes out the goddamn window.

My son is sad and suffering and I cannot have that. I adjust my position, turning him around and pulling him in close to my torso. His hands snake immediately around my neck and he clings tight enough to bruise. I hold him just as tightly.

“Naruto, it’s okay to let it out, to be sad,” I murmur to him, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I have you and I’m not going anywhere.”

It starts with a stuttering breath, then the first sobs start.

 

* * *

 

I don’t know how long it takes Naruto to cry himself to sleep, but the moon was near it’s height when he finally drifted off into sleep. All that talk of me wanting to protect him and yet I do this. I’m a fucking monster, what was I thinking? I can’t raise a kid! I shouldn’t even be here! I should be in some sort of mental hospital or something, talking to walls because who in their right minds can do this? Die and then just brush it off like it’s no biggie and taking over the body and life of a suicidal sugar baby?

Oh god what the fuck was I doing?

I rub my face furiously.

_ This can’t be healthy, this can’t be. _

I’ve lost people close to me before, I know how this whole mourning thing goes. So why wasn’t I feeling that now? I technically lost everything dear to me. 

But.

With Naruto here and Hoshiki-san and Genma every once in a while, I hardly feel lonely. And I barely have time to be lonely, with how much work I have to do all the goddamn time. Between editing the Monstrosity, working at the bookstore, remembering/learning sealing, and helping Naruto with whatever he needs, I’m a busy woman.

I roll my shoulders, standing to get a glass of water for Naruto when he wakes up—he’s lost a lot of hydration with the water works—when a hand closes around my upper arm. I gasp just as another hand anchors itself over my mouth, holding my jaw still in a bruising grip. I have half a second to breath in the scent of old blood and metal before the world blurs before my eyes and everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a) not sorry about the cliffhanger and b) i know this chapter is literally a month late BUT IN MY DEFENSE . . . . . . . . *lunges for a window to escape*
> 
> real talk, i have no excuse, i'm just terrible at time management. uh, so from here on out, i'm going to try to update every month? both for this and my new fic for Aika "I of the Storm" which is a true reborn-in-the-Naruto-world fic
> 
> ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE KUDOS????????? THERE'S OVER 700?????? i'm blown away guys, y'all have no idea, thank u for liking Aika's dumb ass enough to leave kudos


	9. In Which I Delve Through More Notes And Meet More Ninja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, Old-Aika was involved with some sketchy stuff. But she was civilian, surely it couldn't be that dangerous?  
> Surely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've actually had this chapter done for a while, but didn't want to post until I had I Of The Storm ready to go (aka the AU where Aika is reborn normally) but it's kicking my ass. I've put a hold on it for now, hopefully leaving it be will help me think of how I want it started.  
> Now onto the fic!

 

**_Four days earlier_ **

 

Old-Aika’s personal journals--so meticulous and organized--get disjointed about a year ago, six months after she fell in with Homura. But even before then, there are huge parts that she leaves blank, days that go unrecorded. Of course I assume the worst, but her tongue has no hint of the ROOT seal, which is a bigger relief that I can vocalize. The idea of ROOT getting to Naruto through me is . . . unspeakably heinous. 

But it makes me paranoid.

It’s impulse that makes me destroy her journals, years upon years of memories gone because paranoia tells me too. I burn the pages, one by one, by the light of a fire during the course of a night. 

The very next day I buy a whole new stack and begin coding Old-Aika’s sealing notes. Compared to the ridiculous stack of journals she had, her sealing notebooks are fewer in number: five and a half. During the course of two days, I read them.

There’s a sense of deja vu as I read, something deep in Aika’s brain recognizing what the eyes perceive, but even aside from that seals make sense to me. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. I wasn’t anyone who worked with computer coding or math or anything, which is what I assumed seals would be. But there’s a sense of wildness to them, the unrecognizable scribbles translating themselves before my eyes into intent.

I decipher her basic code, and retranslate it to English and then mix it with French and Spanish for good measure.

Then I burn the old notes too.

There’s no Rosetta Stone equivalent for my “code” and I’m confident that their secrets are safe. Of course, this protection all depends on if no one has read them before, which would be foolishly optimistic to assume. But now no one else would learn what I know, would never be able to use my notes as reference ever again. 

It’s not enough, not really, but it’ll have to be.

 

* * *

 

**_One day earlier_ **

 

“Genma,” I chirp, grinning at him as I enter the calligraphy store. He looks just this side of too oh-hi-there-Aika-didn’t-see-you-what-a-coincidence for me to believe that this is an accident, but I’m happy to see him. After the little talk we had in the park ages ago, he’s popped by on occasion to not-so-subtly asking for update. (And he knows that I’ve noticed it’s always when Naruto isn’t with me--I don’t know what to make of that, surely the ban of ‘people who knew Minato don’t interact’ has been lifted, hasn’t it?) I’m not sure if Genma reports back to the Hokage or if it’s out of his own curiosity, but I’m happy to indulge. 

Without my express permission, I’ve turned into one of Those Moms. You know, the ones who spend all the time yapping about how great their kid is, but in my defense, Naruto is a sweetie. So smart and cute and helpful and--

Shit.

Like that.

“Aika,” Genma says back. “What a coincidence.”

“I should say,” I tell him. “I do prefer the market anyways, since you always seem to buy things there.”

That’s also a pattern I’d noted. Genma buying things for me. Well, technically he’d only buy things that would help Naruto. Things like food, or soap, or other home goods. Aside from my bag, he’s been hilariously careful not to buy something that would benefit me and only me. So petty, but so funny.

“I do enjoy contributing to the economy,” Genma drawls, switching his senbon from one side of his mouth to the other. “But what brings you here?”

“Oh, you know, supplies and all that.”

Textbook evasive answer. It’s terribly done, but that’s how Genma and my relationship is shaping up to look: terrible deflections and sarcasm. He follows me through the store, as I browse while looking for--

“Ah-ha!”

Pre-cut blank tags. Oh, how handy. Right beside it is a calligraphy kit that I need to get for Naruto. I bring my purchases up to the counter for purchase, with Genma as a needle-sucking shadow behind me. We don’t speak until we’ve exited the shop and I begin walking home.

“Do I need to tell you what I plan?” I ask.

“I can guess,” he says dryly. “But confirmation would be nice.”

Well, if he reports on it, I supposed direct quotes would be preferable.

“I’m going to start teaching Naruto seals,” I tell him. “I’m not going to let Uzumaki sealing techniques die with me.”

It’s silent and when I look over my shoulder, Genma is gone.

 

* * *

 

**_Now_ **

 

The world asserts itself into stability with a crack, like a tense rubber band snapping back into place. I immediately feel nauseous, eyes squeezing shut against the flare of light of the room I’m in. I sag back against my kidnapper as my vision dances with spots, groaning before I can stop myself.

I hear someone snicker at my reaction.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, wiping my sickness from my head as my eyes snap open to look at the room.

It’s a large white room, maybe sixteen by sixteen feet, with a woman sitting in the center and a tall man with a bandanna over his head right by her.

I know them.

I  _ know _ them, holy shit.

Mitarashi Anko and Morino Ibiki.

My blood turns to ice.  _ Don’t they work for T&I? Do they know? Do they know I’m not Aika? Are they going to interrogate me? _

But.

No.

Because this room isn’t set up for it.

Anko’s shirtless in the middle of the room, with sarashi wrapped around her breasts for modesty’s sake, and Ibiki’s stance is decidedly relaxed. I take a deep, steadying breath and--as if waiting for that exact cue--the arms holding me release me. I look over my shoulder to see the porcelain mask of a dog, features painted red. I can’t see the eyes, but I know that shade and cut of silver hair.

_ Kakashi _ , I think, and the fear I’ve barely leashed slams full force through my veins. I choke on a gasp and break into a violent cough attack. My panic must be obvious to them, it has to be.

They’re the trained ninja and I’m the fucked up asshole in the body of a dead woman. 

_ Oh god, I’m gonna die, _ I think and then:  _ But what about Naruto? _

Kakashi, however, ignores my sudden gust of panic, and retreats to one of the corners of the room, leaning against the wall like he’s settled in for a long wait.

“Took you long enough,” Anko says. “Jeez, Dog, losing your touch?”  It’s said lightly, with an edge of teasing, but Kakashi--or ‘Dog’ I suppose--simply shrugs one shoulder. Anko’s regard turns to me. “I can’t believe you still get sick during a shunshin. What are you, a genin?”

“Technically an Academy student,” I say dryly. Despite the situation, despite the bone-deep fear, Anko’s teasing puts me at ease. She laughs, reclining on her hands, and opens her mouth to add onto that before Ibiki interrupts.

“Are you done? We only have this room for a few hours.”

On that note.

What the FUCK is this room?

But it’s not like I can ask that out loud, so I lick my lips and step forward. Ibiki pulls out a sealing scroll and tosses it to me. I nearly fumble the catch, but luckily I don’t drop it. With a start, I realize this is the first sealing scroll I’ve seen. 

_ Oh no _ , I think and the tenseness from earlier returns full force.

I almost don’t want to connect the dots, but my brain doesn’t listen to me. My eyes flick from the scroll in my hands, to the second scroll Ibiki is taking out, to Anko’s bared neck and--

_ Oh no. _

Ibiki unrolls the scroll, draping it across Anko’s Curse Mark before making a seal. There’s a flicker of--of  _ something _ and then the scroll shines. Once I blink the spots from my eyes, there’s a mess of black all over the room, filling the entire thing with the expanded version of Orochimaru’s Curse Mark.

I close my eyes and . . . take a moment.

It’s not like I didn’t expect my knowledge as a half-trained seal master would have practical applications in village, but I assumed it was something simple, like being a photocopier for the ubiquitous exploding tag.

But not this. 

Oh god, they were all waiting on me. But I’d never used a sealing scroll before. I didn’t know how to open it.

Shit, but I couldn’t just stay still!

I walk over to Anko and take a seat by her side, unrolling the scroll to look at the matrix. 

It’s basic sealing storage. Kanji for time and space and the details of the space and some more about the folding of it. Seals aren’t all kanji, of course, but most of it is. The intent matters more than the writing, but with meaning already attached to kanji symbols, it’s easier to use those. The seal’s written in a circular formation, with the kanji for ‘book’ written in the center. I very carefully don’t look at anyone as I put my hand over it and pray to any and all gods that this doesn’t backfire on me. 

_ Okay, let’s do this. _ I think.  _ I’ve read enough manga and anime and self help websites. I can totally find my chakra. How hard can this be? _

I imagine a pool of water, floating in the center of my body. I mentally draw it up, tracing a path from my stomach to my chest and down to my arm and down into the scroll.

_ POOF _

A notebook tumbles out. I just barely grab it before it falls onto the ground, relief making my body weak and my fingers lax. I set it aside and unseal everything else in the scroll too.

“You’re getting faster,” Anko comments and I blink up at her in surprise.

“Practice makes perfect and all,” I say, a wry twist to my lips.

I open up the sealed book, flipping through the past couple of pages and quickly piecing together what exactly Old-Aika was doing. Well, not that it takes a lot of deduction.

She was decoding snake-face’s Curse Mark. 

The pages themselves are sporadically notated, a sharp contrast to the normally systematic way that her personal notebooks are arranged. She jumps from one realization to the other, almost frantically trying to decode as fast as possible, but with no rhyme or reason. 

“Right,” I say, and pick up where she left off.

  
  


Three hours later and my head is swimming from the influx of information. 

Trying to figure out this shitty seal is like unraveling a billion tangled up necklaces. It’s theoretically not impossible, but it’s also kind of impossible.

“Good work,” I tell Anko, as she stretches after being stuck in the same position for three hours. I’m a little sore myself and am desperately tempted to run myself a bath when I get home. I cast a glance to the corner of the room where Kakashi’s still looming. He hasn’t moved either, as far as I could tell. Ibiki was the only one who was really active in the room, and he was doing paperwork. To be honest, this seems like it should be a bigger project and I’m kinda baffled as to how I’m on the only person working on it.

I mean, didn’t Konoha have a barrier seal team? They should know a lot about seals, why aren’t they here? I mean, the transfer of skills may not be as effective, but several pairs of eyes are better than just one, presumably.

“Good work yourself,” Anko says, then pauses. It’s not a hesitation per se, but it’s a moment that stretches long enough that even I notice. I look at her. “Any chance of figuring out something more?”

I breathe in, carefully making it not a sigh.

“So to recap,” I say, more for my benefit than for hers. “The seal has about six components: monitoring, psyche influence, chakra control, chakra absorption, chakra distribution, and the Unknown.” I emphasize it to have a capital letter because it deserves one. There’s a baffling symbol that Orochimaru’s implanted into the base matrix of the seal that I don’t recognize. Admittedly, I’ve only been trained in the Uzumaki techniques, but not even me with my knowledge of the Naruto verse and all of snakeface’s old shenanigans could figure it out. 

So far, the seal wrapped around Anko’s Curse Mark indicates that Old-Aika has managed to seal away the psyche influence of the seal. 

Which is arguably the most important part. 

Scratch that.

It IS the most important part.

The obvious next one to tackle and seal away is the monitoring aspect, but it’s slow going. This seal is monstrous. It’s hooked into nearly every nerve, every ligament, every microscopic cell is an anchor. Attempting to remove it would take the control of Tsunade and the chakra of a bijuu. It wasn’t possible. The only method we had available was sealing away components of it, like trying to fix a hole in a shoe with duct tape. It works, but for how long until things leak through?

Anko coughs, reminding me that I do have an audience and had just started gazing off into space. I felt my face flush and grinned sheepishly at her.

“To recap,” she prompted, standing up and catching the bundle of clothes Ibiki threw at her. It kinda shocked me that it wasn’t the same outfit that she wore in the anime. It was a deep emerald happi that she tied loosely at her waist, covering just enough to be considered a shirt. She already wore tight leggings and quickly strapped on her sandals as she waited for me to speak.

Which I did.

“Yeah, uh, the monitoring aspect needs to go next, obviously. It’s less tied to the limbic system than the control on so it’ll hopefully be easier to isolate without any damage to you.”

Anko smiles, knife-sharp and vicious, “Very good.” she says. “I can’t let that bastard keep hanging off of me. I can’t take any fun missions like this so hurry it up.”

I can’t help but grin back.

“As you wish.”

She claps me roughly on the shoulders with both hands and then is gone in a noiseless shunshin.

Ibiki stays behind.

“Hokage-sama has denied your request to study Orochimaru’s notes,” he offers and I blink in surprise. Wow, Old-Aika went that far? “I presume you want to hand in another form?” 

“Yes,” I say, because duh. Orochimaru is six shades of crazy, but he’s a genius. Why wouldn’t I want to look at his personal notes? Ibiki hands me a new form, trading it for the notebook that he quickly seals away. “Thanks.”

He nods and then he too disappears.

Now the moment I’ve not been waiting for.

I turn to Kakashi--Dog, whatever--who’s still leaning up against the wall like a creeper. Seriously, didn’t he get tired?

“I, uh, home, please?” I say, stuttering over how I should phrase this. He really does cut an intimidating figure. I’m used to him as the weird lazy dad of Team 7, not this looming man who’s grief has drove him half feral. He says nothing, but reaches for me. I recoil before I can stop it. We both freeze.

“Just, uh, I just want to say something?” My voice squeaks up. Great. Way to sound assertive. Nothing says badass like a voice cracking worse than a teen boy’s. “Can you not like, grab me like that, if you’re doing this next time? It was really scary.”

There’s an awful pause of complete stillness. I can hear my breathing, but not his.

Creepy.

Finally, Kakashi/Dog nods and grabs my arm.

Shunshin is still horrible, but now that the heart pounding terror is gone, I can appreciate how quick the trip is. Hand thing, that. 

“Thanks,” I whisper, when we emerge back in the room.

Naruto is still sleeping, unaware of the passing time and of my absence. All of a sudden, I’m exhausted. These past couple of days have been way too much. I move to collapse on the bed when I notice Kakashi is still here, staring down at Naruto. The mask makes it impossible to read his expression, but his body is wound tighter than a bowstring.

“You can leave now,” I say, and put myself in his line of vision, blocking Naruto from his sight.

I’m perfectly aware that Kakashi’s struggling with his own demons in regard to Naruto and his parentage, but that stance makes me wary. 

It’s . . . aggressive, almost, and I don’t like it.

Another long pause and to be honest, I’m getting kind of tired of them. It’s like ninjas need a long pause before doing anything, it’s weird as fuck.

Finally, he nods once and disappears.

I huff and turn back to Naruto, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Then I finally go and get the water I meant to grab him several hours ago.

And THEN I pass out on the bed next to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued support! Reading your comments really motivated me when I was feeling down. I'm probably still going to have a god awful update schedule, but stick with me. We're not even close to getting started.


	10. In Which I Get Lectured and Lecture In Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurenai's back from her mission! And Naruto gets into a school fight, so I gotta go deal with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a busy bee my lads. ya boi started a new semester, moved houses, started an actual forreal serious foray into an actual forreal serious novel, and in general is just bad at time management.  
> so  
> here

I drop Naruto off at the Academy the next day and come home to a fuming and furious Kurenai.

“I’m gone for what, a month?” she asks, pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage. 

“Three weeks actually--”

She shoots me a glare and I subside. 

“And you adopt a kid!” Kurenai finishes, incessant.

She may be a tiger, but I’m the one who’s trapped, with my ass parked on the couch. The last time I tried to move she honest to god growled at me. I didn’t think human vocal cords could do that. 

“Not just any kid,” she continues, chuckling incredulously. “but the fucking jinchuuriki!” 

She rounds on me, and the expression on her face is far from enraged. She’s concerned, worried, stressed, and my heart melts at the depth of emotion she’s feeling on my behalf.

“Kurenai,” I finally get up, grabbing at her hands and holding both of hers with both of mine. It’s an automatic thing, ingrained in a way that says Old-Aika had likely done this a hundred times before. “It’s okay, you know? He’s a good kid, he really is, he just need a little bit of love.”

“That’s not the point, Aika,” Kurenai says.

“It’s okay,” I tell her again.

“It’s not! You’re still--!”

She cuts off, cuts a glance to the side and then the emotional expression on her face eases, smooths out to something more neutral.

“Aika, you were in the hospital just a few weeks ago and now you’re taking care of a kid. It’s just, don’t you think you’re doing too much?”

Ah.

And there it is.

“You mean because of my suicide attempt?” I say and Kurenai winces, but nods. I take a deep breath in. There’s really no delicate way to handle this. I don’t know if deflection will work on her, but I certainly will not be telling her the truth. There’s just . . . so much to talk about, and no way to vocalize it. 

“I know I haven’t been around--” Kurenai starts and I cut her off.

“Don’t you dare,” I say. “You have been working for that jounin promotion for years, and jounin are in high demand. I get it Kurenai, I do, and what happened is not your fault. It’s--” I sigh. “--It was a mistake, on my end. I let everything get to me and I didn’t-- I just wanted to escape.”

To be honest, I get that.

I mean, objectively speaking, I’m in a way worse position than Old-Aika because I sincerely doubt that woman knew any of the shit that I did. With Danzo’s creepy cult shit and the Akatsuki coming and Madara’s revival and fucking Kaguya all on the horizon, I don’t think anyone could blame me from wanting to escape that bullshit. Suicide may have even been something I would have considered if I hadn’t met Naruto when I did.

As I think that, Kurenai gently wraps me in a hug, which I return. 

“Naruto’s been good for me,” I tell her. The second I do, she pulls away, a look of doubt on her face and her mouth open. No doubt to remind me of whatever bullshit laws Hiruzen has in place. I rush on before she gets the chance to speak. “And I’m good for him.”

Okay, here’s the final push.

I grab Kurenai’s hands and stare deep into her eyes, trying to convey my seriousness. 

“I consider him my son, Kurenai. For Kushina and for me both, I have to raise him. I wasn’t in a good place after Kushina died and I couldn’t take care of him then, but I will now. I swear to any and all gods, I’m going to take care of him.”

Kurenai breathes in.

Exhales.

And I smile because I won. 

She won’t argue with me anymore and though I’ve never seen her specific look of defeat before, it feels like a very familiar expression. Kurenai raises a hand to her head and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head just enough so her wavy hair bounces with the motion. I giggle (didn’t even think I could make a sound like that) and nudge her back towards the couch.

“So let me tell you about what’s been happening--”

  
  


And I catch her up.

Well, except for the whole sugar daddy thing.

And the fact I’m a government contractor. 

And my suspicions about Danzo.

. . .

Okay so I basically bragged about Naruto the entire time.

But Kurenai looked okay with it! She listened attentively as I explained how we met and how I decided to take care of him and how much fun it was to live with someone. She also promised to investigate getting a camera for me when I complained about not being able to capture Naruto’s cuteness, so that’s nice. 

“Oh god,” I whisper to the afternoon air, after Kurenai had taken her leave. “I’m becoming Maes Hughes.” 

Ooh, bad comparison. He was murdered by someone that could transform into any person and that sounds an awful lot like a henge. 

Bad vibes man, bad vibes.

Knocking on the wood of my desk, I shake that bad karma off before going to get Naruto. People at the Academy are used to me now and when I get to the school, the receptionist--Takamori-san, I think--waves me down.

“You have to go to Umino-sensei’s office,” she says. “He said something about a fight?”

Oh boy. 

That can’t be good.

“Could you guide me, please?” I ask her and she nods, helping me through the veritable fucking maze that is the Academy. She stops before a sliding door and gives me a short bow, which I return, before leaving. I knock lightly on the wooden frame.

“Come in!” a voice calls and I walk into Iruka’s office.

It’s a decent sized room, two desks dominating the center, pushed to face the other and I flinch when I see Mizuki. 

Right.

I had forgotten.

Naruto’s still young, so Mizuki hasn’t been outed as a traitor yet. He’s still here, teaching Konoha’s next generation. He looks up at me and gives me the most blatant once over in the history of ever. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as he obviously dismisses me. What a douche canoe.

Iruka himself is--

Holy shit.

He’s so cute.

Like, wow, he’s really fucking cute.

Not baby cute like Naruto, but cute enough to make my stupid heart thump a bit and make me imagine a Yellow Flash-quick potential scenario of us falling in love and him always giving me flowers and making me smile before we marry and have a heck ton of kids before retiring together. Iruka’s a “this dude would treat me right” kind of cute.

I shake off the vivid hallucination and focus on Naruto because my boy is crying and that is not okay.

There’s a pouty kid next to him but who gives a shit abo--

Oh.

OH.

Dark hair, dark eyes, pearly pale skin: it’s baby Sasuke.

Jesus H. Christ. 

I forgot about that.

How could I forget about the Uchihas? Oh my fucking god. 

“Sakamoto-san?” Iruka says and I snap back to the present and out of my “you’re a fucking dumbass” spiral.

“Yes?” I ask, automatically. 

He sighs, worn and haggard, and I feel for him deeply. Mood, my good bitch. Mood.

“Sasuke-kun and Naruto-kun got into a fight earlier today over this.” He holds up a handkerchief and I look at it in confusion, expecting some kind of lie or for Iruka to get embarrassed over a mistake. But no, he remains stern-faced. I look at the two. They fought over a handkerchief? Really? Why in the--

Actually.

The handkerchief pattern looks familiar and in an epiphany moment, I realize it’s the same one I gave Naruto, the first night we met. He kept it with him. That’s so fucking cute, I’m on the verge of tears instantly.

“Neither of them will apologize and they can’t leave until they do,” Iruka says, crossing his arms. The implied:  _ can you please help them along so I can get my fucking work done? _ Is practically shouted. I smile at Iruka. Heard you loud and clear dude.

I walk over and kneel before the two of them, folding easily into seiza as I take a position between the two of them as mediator.

“Hello there,” I say, smiling as sweetly as I can to Sasuke. “I’m Aika, what’s your name?”

“Aika-nee!” Naruto whines, “Don’t talk to Sasuke-teme! He doesn’t deserve it!”

Oof, that makes Sasuke angry.

“Shut up, usu-usuratonkachi!”

Aww, cute, he stumbled over a big word!

Wait, he’s calling Naruto a loser. Can’t have that.

“Sasuke-kun, is it?” I interrupt, ignoring Naruto’s very fox sounding whine. “It’s nice to meet you.” I bow my head and Sasuke bows back, looking a bit reluctant but obviously too ingrained with manners to not do so.

“Now, will you boys tell me why you were fighting?”

They both try to speak at once.

“Sasuke-teme tried to take my handkerchief and--”

“I told usuratonkachi that we needed a cloth to--”

“Boys!” I snap, in my Mom Voice and I’m amused to see them both shut up instantly. Hell yeah, I leveled up as a mom! “Please use each other’s names properly. Your name is a dear gift from your parents and you should respect it in one another. To earn respect, you must first give it and properly addressing someone is the first step.”

They both look taken aback by the impromptu lecture.

Little do they know this is one of many.

“Now,” I say, “One at a time. Naruto, please tell me what happened. And don’t call Sasuke a ‘teme’, that’s very rude and you know it.”

“Sasuke-te--Sasuke tried to take the handkerchief you gave me, Aika-nee! He wanted to get it all dirty in the ink that spilled on the desk but he can’t have it!” Naruto gives a big sniff. “He just tried to grab it from my hands and then I pushed him away and he landed in the ink like a teme and tried to hit me and then Iruka-sensei cut in.”

“Okay,” I said, trying very hard to box up how touched I was and stay objective. “Sasuke, please tell me what happened. And please use Naruto’s name, it’s only polite.”

“Usura-- _ Naruto _ ,” he bites out grudgingly, “was messing around and knocked over my ink pot! He had that ratty cloth in his hands and it was only fair that he helped clean up the mess he made. And then he pushed me in the ink!”

Sasuke’s wearing white pants, so I can see why he’s so heated.

“It’s not a ratty cloth!” Naruto snaps, “It’s Aika-nee’s first present to me!”

“And that ink was a present from my onii-san!”

Well okay then.

That tells me a lot actually.

The Uchiha are still alive, because Sasuke still refers to Itachi in an affectionate manner. But that also means the clock is ticking on how long they have left to live.

And I have no idea if I can stop it from happening.

It’s autopilot to take one of their hands into each of mine and hold, drawing their attention on me and cutting off the growing heated argument.

“I think our issue here is of communication.” Oh boy. Time for some mad bullshit. “Which is entirely inappropriate for the great future ninja of Konoha. 

“One day, when you’re genin or chuunin or jounin, you’re going to need to communicate with a lot of people, and be able to both listen to orders and give them, and listen to advice and give that too. Now, how are you going to feel when you tell a teammate something and they don’t listen? You’d feel bad right? Like you’re not important enough to listen to and that no one cares for what you have to say.” 

_ Okay, too much, gotta ease up a bit. _

“In the Academy, you have a build up a lot of skill you need in the future like communicating, and talking to your fellow students, who will one day be your comrades. If a mistake is made, it needs to be politely pointed out, so it can be fixed. The Academy is training you for the future.”

“Like when you help me with homework?” Naruto asks, and I squeeze his hand gently.

“Yes, just like that.” I look at Sasuke and see he’s still following me but he doesn’t look too pleased by it. Shit, I’m losing him.

“Sasuke-kun, you’re mad that Naruto didn’t help when he spilled your ink, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” baby Sasuke said mulishly.

“But did you try telling him that, or did you just try and grab what he had in his hands?”

Ohh, a sheepish Sasuke. Wow, I never realized how much expression he didn’t have in the anime and manga. Jesus. 

“There wasn’t any time!”

“Maybe, maybe not. But you’d feel pretty upset if someone grabbed something out of your hands, wouldn’t you?” 

He doesn’t respond to that.

I turn to Naruto and I want to laugh at the expression on his face. He’s resigned himself to a life lesson, which is good, because I’m certainly building up to one.

“And Naruto, you’re mad because Sasuke tried to take something special from you, correct?”

“Yeah.” 

“Did you ask yourself why he was trying to do so? Did you notice the spilled ink?”

“No, because Sasuke is always annoying.”

“I AM NOT!”

“The point is!” I say over both of them, “is that you didn’t communicate, yes? Sasuke-kun didn’t use his words to ask Naruto for his help and Naruto didn’t ask why Sasuke-kun was doing what he was doing.”

“I DON’T WANT THE DOBE’S HELP--”

“THE TEME NEVER--”

“Both of you!” I snap, harsh over their young voices. “What did I say about properly using names?”

“I don’t want Naruto’s help!” Sasuke says, “He’s always messing things up!”

Ooookay this is rapidly spiralling out of my control.

“Sasuke is mean, I don’t ever want to help him!”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Boys, please,” I beg, because we were doing so well, why, god?

“SHUT UP!” Mizuki yells, just as the door to the shared office opens again.

All of us freeze.

I can feel myself pale.

An old man flanked by a scarred man and a beautiful woman.

Shit.

Sarutobi Hiruzen looks exactly like a harmless old man should and I feel my insides heave, trying to escape the man’s immediate vicinity, instinct that I can’t follow through. Every fiber of my being wants to recoil and I can taste blood on the back of my tongue from the force of his presence alone.

_ He can kill you _ , my gut tells me,  _ he can kill you and he won’t even care. _

Nara Shikaku is just as terrifying, stern and scarred and looking like every hardened shinobi you hear stories about. I wonder--ludicrously--if he remembers me nodding at him from that day at the playground.

_ You’re a fake and they know, _ some dark part of me whispers,  _ they’re going to kill you right here, in front of Naruto and he’ll know you’ve lied to him _ .

Uchiha Mikoto on the Hokage’s other side is looking right at me, her gaze focussed on Sasuke’s hand in mine and I let go before I can fully process the action. Her neck looks like it’s never been bent in submission and grace radiates off her like heat from a bonfire. 

_ Your death will be nothing to them,  _ the dark thing says,  _ You are nothing to them. You will die in shame, begging for your second, stolen life, and no one will care. _

“Jiji!” Naruto cries, and I stutter on an inhale.

Sasuke leaps off the chair and heads to his mother, colliding with her legs as Naruto jumps into Hiruzen’s arms. I stand slowly, my legs tingling as the blood rushes back to them. And then, like Iruka and Mizuki also in the room, I’m bowing. 

To the Hokage, we give our deepest bows, nearing a solid sixty degree angle, and we don’t rise until he chuckles and says: “None of that now.”

I straighten, my hands coming to a gentle clasp in front of me as I watch Hiruzen hold Naruto in his arms like he actually gives a shit about the boy.

Shikaku watches me like a hawk.

Fair, I suppose. A jounin would definitely be able to read my hostility towards Hiruzen, unwise as it may be. 

“Hokage-sama, my son and I will take our leave.” Mikoto says and at Hiruzen’s nod, she walks out with Sasuke, hand-in-hand. I see Iruka move to protest, since his original rule was that neither could go until they both apologized, but once the Uchiha clan matriarch says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.

“So what happened, Naruto?” Hiruzen asks, gentle and patient and kind and god, I want to strangle him. How dare he? How--

Shikaku shifts in place and I look aside, carefully not tensing up. The window is just interesting to look out of, that’s all. No traitorous thoughts here, no siree. Just me and my window staring and my well of endless bitterness.

“--And Sasuke-teme, oh, uh, I mean, Sasuke, he tried to grab my handkerchief!”

I can feel another stare boring into me.

How funny, I can almost hear what they’re thinking.

_ She’s gotten too close, he obeys her lessons without her prompting, he’s adopting her mannerisms, he’s gotten too attached. _

_ She’s a threat. _

I want to ask when they’re going to do it, if the Hokage would do the honors himself.

I want to ask them to let me write out letters to Naruto, for him to open on his birthdays and special occasions so he has something left of someone who loves him as he is and not as the soldier he’d become.

I want to ask them to let me write out lesson plans for him, so he can learn the art of Uzumaki sealing and of Kushina’s legacy.

I want to ask them to let me hug Naruto one last time before they haul me off who-knows-where and I want to tell him that his mom and dad loved him very much and that I do too and that one day he’ll be loved by so many more people.

Instead I turn back to face the stares on me and meet Hiruzen’s gaze. His eyes are brown and wise and so very cold.

“Aika-chan,” he says, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”

I smile. 

“What a coincidence, I was going to say the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs and runs away*


End file.
